


Feed, Or F*ck?

by Caffiend



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Captivity, Dark!Bucky, F/M, Feeding on Humans, Oral Sex, Profanity, Puget Sound, Restraints, Rough Sex, Seattle, Top Bucky Barnes, Vaginal Sex, Vampire Bucky Barnes, Vampire Natasha Romanov, avengers fandom - Freeform, dark and rainy, dark bucky barnes, dub con, feed or fuck, underage girl used as a threat no actual contact, winter soldier fandom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27187174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiend/pseuds/Caffiend
Summary: In which Vampire James Buchanan Barnes presents his captive, his precious doll, with the same choice, over and over.
Relationships: James Buchanan Barnes/OFC
Comments: 273
Kudos: 189





	1. The Game

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my beloved Wombat's Ugly 4K Challenge on Tumblr. I picked, James Buchanan Barnes, and the song lyric, "She shows no emotion at all. Stares into space like a dead china doll." (ElliotSmithLoverGuy Waltz #2) and the moodboard Dark City.
> 
> This is clearly 18+, captivity, kidnapping, careless vampire cruelty, vampire sex and feeding. Please heed the tags.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the followup to my Vampire/Lumberjack Dark Steve tale, It'll Be Good For You, if you want to read that first. https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732837
> 
> Either way, welcome to delicious, scary, smutty Bucky.

_(image credit: imanuglywombat)_

James Buchanan Barnes had not selected the location of his imposing office lightly.

It was in a glittering high-rise in Seattle, overlooking the Puget Sound with a sleek decor in grey, black, and silver tones that accentuated his power as a literary agent. The walls were lined with framed posters of some of the best-selling books he’d shepherded into fame and fortune. Several of the huge images were book covers from his star client, Aura Ellory. 

In fact, he was staring at them as he spoke to her. “How are you feeling, Aura? I still think I should have stayed.”

His pretty client rolled her eyes. “Please. And get one of your $2,000 suits dirty? You took great care of me and I truly appreciate you getting everything straightened out.” She absently pushed a riot of curls out of her face. “So, where did the police find his body again?”

James smiled blandly, remembering the taste of the psycho pharmacist who’d been stalking his sweet Aura into a nervous breakdown and then tracked her down into the mountains of Oregon. His adrenaline from his terror made his blood… really, it was a delicacy. So tingly as it went down the throat. He affected a solemn expression for Aura. “Oh, downstream a ways. He was pretty banged up.” James leaned forward, staring into the computer monitor. “Bears, you know…”

Aura shuddered, as he knew she would. “Look, this is a new beginning. You don’t have to worry about him ever again.” James smiled a little devilishly. “And how are you and the lumberjack doing?” She blushed a little, again as he knew she would.

“Fine…” she mumbled. “He’s really sweet. Takes great care of me. I feel like I’m being selfish. I should be doing more.”

“Hey,” he soothed, “you’re still recovering your strength. And it’s obvious Mr. February on the Hot Lumberjacks calendar is happy to do it.” Aura laughed, as he knew she would.

“Whatever, James. That’s so creepy. But the man does rock the plaid shirt…” she drifted off with the misty look of a Woman Who Is Well Sexed-up.

Chuckling, he soothed, “Well, good. How are the last two chapters coming? Did your editor over at Random go through them yet?” Aura smiled, happy to be off the conversation of Steve, Love God and Man in Flannel who’d saved her life from her stalker. 

And was a vampire.

With a sigh, James threw some contracts to look over at home after saying goodbye to his most successful client and attempted to control his overly interested cock. There was so much to be done at home. So much to look forward to. There was always an odd pull when his Ferrari pulled out of the building’s parking garage. The new office building where he held most of the top floor was… special. While one side faced the glory of the Sound, the sparkle of the waves, and redolent with the scents of seafood and Chinese cuisine. The other- loomed over the darkest part of the city. Decaying buildings and a sense of dread and resignation that wouldn’t be found in the usual tourist spots. But just a few twists and turns through this bleak part of town grounded James. 

There was so much prey, here.

Rolling the gunmetal grey sportscar through the street, littered with trash and human souls just waiting for what would happen to them next. A hit of something to take away their memories. A brutal blowjob in a car for a small roll of money slapped into their hands. Maybe someone who’d offer the simple mercy of death. Because anywhere was better than Burton Street.

A young man. He would have been handsome without the pale, feverish skin of an addict, hands shaking as he placed them on the passenger side door. “What’s up, my man? You needing company?”

James smiled. He’d be fine.

James lives in a tall brick structure on the other side of the harbor. Solid metal and oak doors, black iron bars on the windows on the lower level. It looked like a beautiful, well-kept fortress. Which it was. You would know. You’d been trapped here for six weeks now. When you woke with a neck still stinging from the needle he’d plunged into you, you’d fought viciously to escape your beautiful prison.

_“What the fuck are you doing!” you shouted at him furiously, the beautiful bastard settling back in a richly upholstered armchair by the bedroom’s fireplace. “I want out of here, psycho!”_

_Ugh. That smile of his. It warmed his eyes from the cold blue-grey into something almost approaching human. Which he was not. “You’ll learn to be happy here, doll,” James said gently. “It would be in your best interest to accept that you’re never leaving here.”_

Maybe it would have been easier if James would just fucking tell you … why you? How did you catch his eye? What had you done wrong?

When he’d taken you, you were still carrying a stupidly heavy stack of manuscripts to the records room. Your pencil skirt and blouse were torn and dirty when you’d woken up on his gigantic, lush bed.

A bed he did not use for sleeping, heavens, no.

James Buchanan Barnes had a game he loved to play with you.

“Feed, or fuck?”

You were cowering miserably at the foot of the aforementioned bed, attired in another soft cashmere sweater and silky leggings. James loved dressing you up, brushing your hair and styling it, kissing your temple, and calling you his “pretty doll.” You watched him pull his latest victim into the room.

God, this poor kid couldn’t be older than what? Twenty-five, maybe? He paused for a moment when he spotted you, then looked to James. “Yeah, so it’s gonna cost more if she’s jumping in, so-”

He was raised off the ground, sneakered feet jittering as James, still smiling amiably, still beautiful in his expensive suit, had him by the neck, easily holding the man high as he gazed fondly at you.

“Tell me, doll. Doll-baby. Which is it?”

You were shuddering. You wanted to look strong. You wanted to be firm and tell this psycho bastard that you wouldn’t play this sick game again. “I won’t…” His brows drew together as you mindlessly shook your head. “I won’t play this time, James, I…”

“Oh?” he inquired courteously. “Then I’m killing him. All right, I think I’ll tear out his throat, no screaming while he bleeds out. God, I hate the racket.”

“Wh-” the poor kid was trying to gasp out a plea, but his face was turning from beet-red to pale, and you knew you had just a few seconds.

You backed away to huddle by the huge, floor to ceiling window, curling in on yourself like a potato bug. “No!” His jaw was open, the terrifying bristle of razor-sharp teeth elongating in his mouth. “No, James, I’m sorry, I didn’t-” Swallowing down your nausea, you forced yourself to smile. “I m- meant, f…” _Do it!_ You raged silently, _Do it!_ Turning your face away from the grisly tableau in front of you, you licked your dry lips. “Feed. Please.”

His grey-blue eyes were alight with mischief, with a sparkle that would be charming, undeniably attractive in any other situation. The corner of his lush mouth turned up. “You want to fuck me, doll? Or feed me?” James when he was pleased, when he was triumphant, was at his most unearthly beauty. And his least human. The way his pupil swallowed all color in his eyes and his features sharpened, shadows cast on his face to make it a death mask. His sheer bulk - his heavily muscled body, powerful shoulders and arms straining against his beautiful suit - it always made you feel weak, hopeless. You’d never get away from him.

“Fuck him…” you whispered, swallowing hard. “And feed from me.”

The first time James had offered you this choice, you’d refused it. You would not make a choice that could hurt this poor girl. She was terrified, breasts heaving over the cheap corset she wore, carefully applied goth makeup streaming down her face. The heavy smell of alcohol and cigarettes told you he’d picked her up in a bar. He had his arm around her chest, just under her breasts, and compressing her ribcage a bit as she cried. “I’m giving you the choice, doll. Feed, or fuck?”

You knew by then he was a vampire. James had shown you his fangs shortly after taking you, but it wasn't like the movies. He had you suspended over him with one negligible flick of his thick fingers, strolling around your shaking form. And when he'd grinned at you - you screamed and screamed. His full lips stretched around a horrifying thicket of jagged, razor-sharp teeth and he laughed at your terror. It changed everything. You would not be escaping this supernatural lunatic. You would do anything to avoid having him put that monstrous mouth on you.

“Let her go, you psycho! She hasn’t done anything to you.”

“Y- yeah,” the girl tried to agree, “I won’t tell anyone I swear I’ll never say a word please-”

He’d shaken her briskly to shut her up and she screamed, a high, thin wail that echoed around the soundproofed room. “Shut up.” James turned back to you. “I can either feed on her, and fuck you, or the other way around. Make your choice, doll.”

Shaking your head, you refused. “I’m not doing this sick fuckery! I’m not playing your game. Let her go, _please,_ James."

He’d sighed solemnly, and snapped her neck. You stared into her blank, lifeless eyes and burst into wrenching sobs. This was your fault. You’d refused to look at him for days, curling in the corner of the room as he brought you dinner, taking a shower, and changing into thin, comfortable sweats that outlined his perfect ass. The food cooling into sludge as you stayed in your corner while he sat by the huge fireplace, reading through manuscripts, taking notes, and leaving messages for his assistant. After a week, you were forced to eat, tied to the bed and a feeding tube up your nose. From then on, you ate at the table. Sat in a chair opposite his and stared into the flames. And then he brought in the next person, an older woman this time, in her thirties. She was pretty and nicely attired in an expensive suit. “Your choice, doll. Feed, or fuck?”

Wiping absently at the tears streaming down your red cheeks, you asked, “Does it - do you hurt people when you have sex with them?”

James threw back that magnificent head and laughed. “No, doll. It’s good.” His voice deepened and thickened, his pelvis pressing into the small of the woman’s back as she whimpered. “You’d come so hard. Over and over.”

“What about her?” you asked, “You won’t hurt her? You’ll let her go?”

His head tilted, staring at you over her shoulder. His smile was oddly gentle, which made it even worse. “Yeah, doll. I will. I can make her forget. So, which is it?”

Your expression hardened. “Fuck her. Feed from me.” 

James’ beautiful features darkened, like a cloud passing over the moon. But he threw the woman on the thick rug in front of the fireplace and ripped off her dress. Stabbing a finger at a chair close by, he ordered, “Sit there. Keep your eyes open and on me or I’ll kill her.” He turned, murmuring soothingly to her, stripping off his perfectly tailored suit jacket, then his shirt, displaying smooth skin over thick muscle, like marble in the firelight. When he pulled down his trousers, you and the woman both gulped. James was huge, a thick column of flesh rearing up, nearly to his belly button and solid. Climbing over her, he looked over his broad shoulder at you, smiling unpleasantly. “Don’t look away, doll-baby.”  
  
He kept his word, at least. His rough hands stroked over her body, pinching her nipples, mouth running down her body to settle between her legs and bring her into her first orgasm. And then another with lips and tongue and two fingers driving up inside her as the woman gasped and moaned, hands gripping the tassels on the oriental rug. James looked over his shoulder again, smiling at you. Shuddering, you could see his glistening mouth and the muscles in his arm bulging as he used his hand to bring her off again. You could feel … shit. Your center was warming, the muscles in your thighs felt looser, breasts heavier. You were disgusted and embarrassed to be watching something that was supposed to be private. Intimate between two people. But this monster was so beautiful. And when his ass flexed and tensed as he drove his cock up into her, your fingers gripped the arms of the chair, digging your nails in. Because your hands wanted to go between your legs and mimic his actions.  
  


When James was finished, when you’d endured listening to them both come, a long, luxurious round of moans and grunts, he dressed the limp woman and carried her out of the room. Waiting for him to return, you began to shake. Would it hurt? Would it be erotic, like in the stories you used to love? Or would it just be- 

“Get on the bed, doll.”

Your head shot up, he’d reappeared soundlessly, standing in front of you and still brazenly, magnificently naked. Clumsily obeying him, you backed away as he put one knee on the mattress, then the other. Pinned against the headboard, you felt an ache in your chest.

“Breathe,” he was not unkind, hands pulling away your soft t-shirt.

With a heaving gasp, you obeyed. “Is it-,” you tried to pull away, “why are you taking off my clothes, you just need m- my neck, right?” 

James burst into a hearty laugh, looking gorgeous and charming for a moment. “Oh, my doll-baby. There’s so many places to feed on. And I want all my choices laid out for me.” You closed your eyes, trying not to look at him, the lust and appreciation as he ran his hands down your shoulders, lifting one wrist to his nose, breathing deep. “Here?” James mused. Then his nose was nuzzling your throat and you bit back a whimper. “Or, here, doll?” he whispered tauntingly. Then to your shock, he slid down your body, easily spreading your legs against your struggles. Drawing a finger along your femoral artery, he grinned. “Oh, the blood is so sweet from here.” You jumped as his knuckle caressed your clitoris. “Why, sweet doll, you’re so wet? You liked watching me make her come? Watching me fuck her? Maybe…” his huge body slid over yours, cool skin over your warm and whispered in your ear. “Maybe you’re wishing it had been you? Regretting your choice?”

Stiffening, you glared up at him. “Just get it over with.”

Turns out, he did go for your throat, growling as you screamed and pushed against him. It hurt, oh god, it hurt worse than anything that had ever happened to you. Worse than appendicitis when you were eight. Or the ski accident that broke your arm in two places when you were twenty-two. It burned down your throat like a trail of toxic fire, making your back arch, hands flailing helplessly. You could hear the sickly noise of his slurping your blood, his breathing in your ear, his pleased grunts. You felt the scrape of his jagged mouth against your skin and the wet slick of blood dripping from you onto the pristine white sheets. “So good…” James groaned in a voice not quite human, not quite animal. And when the dark waters surged over you, you gladly fell into them.

  
  
  
  



	2. The Writing Under His Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the game continues.
> 
> This is for my beloved Wombat's Ugly 4K Challenge on Tumblr. I picked, James Buchanan Barnes, and the song lyric, "She shows no emotion at all. Stares into space like a dead china doll." (ElliotSmithLoverGuy Waltz #2) and the mood board Dark City.
> 
> This is clearly 18+, captivity, kidnapping, careless vampire cruelty, vampire sex and feeding. Please heed the tags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience. Writing is usually my refuge but everything's been ... a lot. But I always promise to finish a story, and this one will be no exception. Thank you as always for reading, I truly appreciate you!

_(image credit: imanuglywombat)_

_The first time…_

When you reluctantly returned to consciousness, your head was in James’ lap, a smooth fingertip stroking featherlight over your forehead. It made your skin feel flushed, itchy. Opening your eyes gave you a blurry vision of the monster smiling down at you, just a hint of fang reminding you of what had happened to you. One hand flew to your neck, accidentally knocking his away as you felt your skin. It should have been torn apart. Skin lacerated, bruises blooming like violent purple flowers. But your fingers found nothing but smooth skin, nothing to prove what happened the night before. Rolling away from him, you winced. Your throat may seem untouched but you were pitifully weak, making vague paddling motions like a baby turtle, trying to get to the edge of the bed. 

“Stop.” His voice was calm, but you still froze.

“I don’t want to be by you,” you rasped, your throat felt like a rusty nail file. “I … need to go to the bathroom.” You kept your back to him, head down. If you looked at him you’d scream, or try to tear _his_ throat out.

“All right,” James said, drawing it out long enough to make your nerves want to snap like piano wires. “Then come back to bed. You’re going to feel weak and tired today.”

The bathroom mirror proved to you that there was, indeed, no damage to your neck. You felt it though. The exhaustion, the throbbing under the skin that felt like a contusion trying to surface. Your unmarred skin mocked you as you thumped ungracefully down on the toilet. ‘I can’t go out there.’ You weren’t speaking out loud, you knew how good his hearing was, your lips just shaping the words. ‘I can’t look at him.’ 

As if he could read your mind, James tapping mockingly on the door, like he gave a shit about your privacy. “Come on out, my pretty doll,” you could _hear_ the grin in his voice. “You need to have breakfast before I leave.” Unreasonably cheered by the thought that he would actually leave you alone, you reluctantly opened the door. “Look at you,” James was practically purring with satisfaction, holding you still with one hand while the other smoothed the long white dress he’d given you to wear over your hips. His hands were large and smooth, oddly warm and you wanted them the fuck off of you. He was so _big_ … the bulk of him caging you in and it was like your captor loomed, something relentless and monolithic and amused at your feeble efforts to resist him. The table by the fireplace was set for one, but after courteously pulling out your chair, James seated himself across from you alternating between watching you eat and reading through a press release. 

You hated his stare, James watched you put each bite of waffle into your mouth, gazed intently at the movement in your throat. “Don’t people wonder why you don’t eat?” you asked abruptly, desperate to break up his perusal. 

“I can eat,” he said, running a thick finger over his lips. “It’s just not necessary, obviously.” Standing abruptly, he looked out at the heavily overcast sky. “Be good and finish your breakfast,” he smiled at you mockingly, “get your strength back.”

Your voice stopped him as his hand reached for the door. “Why me?”

James turned, unfairly beautiful in half-profile. “You’re necessary.”

“Wait- what? What do you mean?” You stepped toward him, but the door was already closing, the clear ‘snick!’ of each lock being engaged.

To your relief, he didn’t come back to your bed - _his_ bed - you slept there alone. You didn’t know where he slept, or even if he did. James could seem to come and go during the day, although Seattle was routinely overcast. You didn’t know if that made the sun issue moot. You just knew that every time he opened the door, your pulse started rabbiting in your neck and you couldn’t swallow as he smiled at you, not bothering to hide the terrifying sharpness of his teeth. When he refused to answer any more questions about what the whole, “you’re necessary” comment meant, or if he’d ever let you go you lapsed back into bitter silence.

Until the next time. With the pale, sweaty boy that you were sure was an addict. And oh, _god,_ it hurt so much. As much as the first time when James had viciously latched on to your neck. This time he’d chosen your inner thigh, the thin skin splitting easily under the pressure of his teeth and worse, his whiskered cheek was rubbing against your clit. It hurt too much for you to feel any pleasure from that but as your flailing hand tried to push his head away, it brushed over your center and you were shocked to feel a hot pulse of… something there. Fortunately, you passed out from the agony of his feeding before you could question it again.

James was in bed with you as you were forced back into consciousness. This time, his cool fingertips were stroking over the skin on your back in wide, sweeping motions and you shuddered, trying to move away.

“Don’t move, doll.” His voice was irritated, almost angry as if you’d interrupted a big meeting or an important phone call.

Cautiously moving your leg, fingertips tracing down you felt smooth, unbroken skin again, just like last time. How could he tear you apart so easily but nothing remained as proof? Your back was itchy, tingling as his fingers traced your shoulder blades, your spine. You twitched, unable to hold it back. “Please stop.”

There was a smile as James rolled you over on to your back, his plush lips still red from feeding on you. “Just touching your skin can’t be as personal, as invasive as my teeth inside you. Sucking you.”

Your eyes narrowed. You fucking hated this… guy. You still couldn’t quite use the “V” word in casual conversation. The mere concept seemed so impossible like you were admitting you were as insane as he was. 

“You don’t have to make it hurt, do you? The others, they don’t feel any pain.”

James was wearing some thin sleep pants and nothing else aside from the elaborate scrollwork of tattoos covering his left arm. “It doesn’t have to hurt, my sweet little doll. You can just say…” he leaned close, breathing in your horror, “...fuck. And I’ll take good care of you.”

“You’ll drain me dry first, you sick bastard,” you blurted, but James only threw back that magnificently handsome head and laughed.

Forcing you to drink a bottle of water and then some juice, he rolled you over onto your side again and slid in behind you, enveloping you completely. “Sleep, doll.”

You woke abruptly, still halfway into the terrors of your dream, gasping. The heavily muscled arm slung over your hip was like lead, heavy, utterly still. There was no soft inhale/exhale to make that massive chest pressed against your back move. The feeling that a corpse was cradling you became too overwhelming and you put a hand on James’ arm, trying to push him away. Something rose on his skin under your fingertips and it stopped you.

Tiny, perfectly shaped letters in an old-style font. Precise and clear.

 _“Romania. The Romanescu. Seventeen hundred and thirty-one. The first son.”_ Your mouth shaped the words silently as your fingers moved slightly, watching the delicate letters appear and disappear. The markings raised from his arm were blood red, vivid on his dusky skin. Tentatively, you ran your index finger higher to his bicep.

_“Strigoi.”_

“What does it say?” 

His voice was loud in your ear and you yelped a little. Yanking your hand away, mindlessly shaking your head. “Nothing. I just thought it was a… a birthmark.”

“Liar.”

You tried pushing yourself backward, away from him but James prowled after you on all fours, head lowered like a wolf. “It was nothing, it’s just… gibberish.” He’d crawled over you by now, caging you with his arms and legs. His face was inches from yours, making you shudder. 

“Do you know what happens to bad girls who lie?” His mouth was a thin slash, pupils expanding to create the black, bottomless gaze that terrified you so. “Liars get punished.” James lazily nuzzled you in contrast to his cruel words. “But you know I could never punish you, doll. So…” he sighed heavily, sitting up. “I’ll have to bring in someone else to punish.” 

“No!” You sat up, too, hands mindlessly reaching out. “Don’t- not another one, please don’t do that!”

James sat back on his heels, long legs folded and pelvis jutted forward. “Then put your accursed hand on my skin and read to me.” His eyes were blank, pitch-black and terrifying.

Your shaking fingers touched his chilly arm. _“_ Romania... uh, the Romanescu. Seventeen hundred and thirty-one. The first son.” You looked up to see his eyes were blue again- a blazing heat to them that made him almost look… alive?

His hand went over yours, tightening. “What else?”

Shaking your head, you mumbled, “The only other word was ‘strigoi’. No surprise there.”

James released you so suddenly you almost went over backward, but he was striding across the room, staring into the fire.

The horror of the victims James dragged through the door intensified, more often, closer together and you could barely stand after each cruel game of “feed, or fuck?” He’d bitten you on the soft inside of your elbow, on the other side of your neck. Your nipple- oh, that had been the most painful of all. Even at the cleft of your buttocks. He’d taken to giving you fluids through an IV because you couldn’t drink enough to restore you.

“My sweet doll. Feed, or fuck?”

“Please, James…” you thought you were crying but your eyes were dry. There were no tears left for these poor people. “Please stop this. Just kill me and get it over with.”

He was so beautiful, the sadistic bastard, his suit fit perfectly over those broad shoulders, the flames from the fireplace highlighting James’ high cheekbones, that sinfully lush mouth. His head was dipped, scenting along the sobbing man’s neck. He was pretty with blonde curls and dressed in club gear, maybe a dungeon or something with all that leather. He must have thought he’d struck gold with the monster currently holding him by the throat.

“Never, doll. I couldn’t lose you,” he purred cruelly, still smiling at you over the shaking Leather Club Guy’s shoulder. “Now, tell me. Feed, or fuck?”

You stared each other down, a silent duel with the terrified man between you. Your fists clenched, god, you wanted to fucking _kill_ him! You wanted to beat him into a pulp. You’d never been a violent person. But now, oh… You would tear James apart. You would stab him right in his nonexistent heart, you’d… Sighing, you repeated the same thing you always said. “Fuck him. Feed on me. And fuck _you_ , James!”

Back between your thighs, he was, slurping deliciously and laving your torn skin with his tongue. You could hear his low grunts and moans of pleasure. Wait… was that you? His thumb was strumming gently over your hardened bud, and suddenly two fingers slid up inside you. Thick fingers, smooth and well-cared for. And they were pressing and moving deftly over your suddenly wet passage.

“N- goddamnit, no! You said... “ your head flopped back down, too weak to hold it up. “Doan’...” Your voice died off and you stared blankly at the shadows on the ceiling. 

James chuckled against your humiliatingly wet center. “I’m not fucking you. I’m making you come.”

“No…” you groaned despairingly. You couldn’t fight him. Even if you had any strength, he’d play his fucked up game with you with equal ease. You could feel the strained tendons in your thighs loosen, legs splaying open obscenely as James finished his meal of you and then fastened onto your cunt with his bloody mouth, sucking with equal relish. ‘I control my body,’ you thought desperately, ‘he can eat me, but he can’t…’ It was too late. Those goddamn dexterous fingers and the slightest brush of a fang over the swollen surface of your clitoris and it was over. You were gasping, back arched and unconsciously pushing yourself into James’ mouth. You were on fire, swirling up from your clitoris, now being batted very gently by his tongue and his fingers, cruelly pushing higher than you thought anything could go.

“Give me another one. I want more, sweet doll,” he crooned, and this time tears did run from your eyes as you gasped as your cunt helplessly tightened down against his hand. “You’re like silk inside,” James said, his voice deeper, like a tiger’s rumble from his chest, “and so sweet. Sweeter than your blood. I didn’t think that was possible…” 

When you came back to the land of the living, you were lying in the huge, old-fashioned clawfoot tub, warm water swirling over your throbbing core and sore muscles. Your captor was behind you, stroking over your breasts and keeping you from sliding deeper into the water. His broad chest felt so solid, and it was warm from the water. He almost felt... human?

“Why didn’t you let me die?” you moaned.

“Shhh…” he soothed. “No one’s going to die.” Lifting your limp hand, he put it on his thigh. “What do you see?”

Sure enough, you could feel the tiny bumps rising from his skin, and you tried to focus your bleary vision. _“First son of six brothers and a sister…”_ your eyes kept closing and James would jostle you awake. “ _Your father… uh… Alexandru Romanescu. Your mother… Sorana...”_ why wouldn’t he let you sleep and forget tonight? _“A castle of white stone in…_ AH!” He’d pinched your thigh sharply. " _Timișoara. Your family is from there.”_ This time, James let you close your eyes and you gratefully slipped into the darkness.


	3. You Know the Game, Doll...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which James finds your breaking point.
> 
> Thank you to my dear misreall for helping me figure out the "breaking point."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated tages. Please read them, if you're uncomfortable with this story, please don't feel like you need to contine.

He sleeps with you every day now. A constant presence and it suffocates you. His hands always smoothing over your skin, mapping each inch. But James only makes you touch him after he’d fed. 

_The raised words on his back tell you of his family, his position - son to the Ban of_ _Timișoara_ _, Romania, meant to rule after his father’s passing. That he was attacked by something unknown, something monstrous in his twenty-fourth year. The story told from the letters on his chest showed that he came back to his senses and the knowledge of what he was some twenty years later in France. And along one heavily muscled thigh, that at the moment he gained the awareness that made him more than a beast, he was in the middle of a pile of expensively dressed, drained bodies - an aristocratic charnel house - and alone. James escaped, lived for a time in London and then at the beginning of the 1900s came across the ocean to America._

But you could never tell him anything about those twenty missing years. James feverishly ran through thousands of documents, trying to learn more about the fate of his family, the Romanescu of Timișoara. It was a realization that made you soften - slightly - in your fear and fury of him. 

“If you don’t remember those twenty years, you’re afraid maybe… that you hurt your family?”

His head shot up from his laptop at your question, the first oddly non-graceful movement you’d seen from him. You were sorry you’d opened your fool mouth because your beautiful captor was furious. “If your desire to read my history was as great as your need to wail and play the victim, I would know now, wouldn’t I?” Rising from his seat, James sauntered over to you, “Why are you keeping that from me, my sweet doll? Don’t I take care of you? Feed and pamper you? Restore you?”

You were busy with being pressed against the window and trying to find a way to avoid him, so it took a moment for his words to sink in.

“Restore me? What does _that_ mean?”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what that means,” James purred, an unkind little grin twisting his lush mouth. “I can’t drain you dry, you have work to do. You’re still necessary.” He put one arm on one side of your face, then caged you with the other. The fashionable exposed brick you were pinned against was fucking freezing and with the chill radiating off him, your teeth were already chattering. “So I’ve had to administer a little pick me up. A restorative, they used to call it.”

“You…” you swallowed against your dry mouth, “you gave me your _blood?_ You evil bas-”

One huge hand landed on your jaw, stopping your outrage as James kissed the fury out of your mouth, his tongue sliding over your gritted teeth. “Be a good girl and think about what you want to say. I said that you’re necessary. I did not say that meant I would not punish you.” His fingers tightened just slightly but it was enough to sting.

You were a little sick at the realization that he’d fed you his blood - well, your blood really, just recycled through his undead body and given back to you. There was something of him in you.

“My poor doll,” James was sweet again, so concerned, “you’re freezing. Let’s get you into a nice, warm bath and your Sir will wash your hair.” 

That was another new thing. Calling him _that._ James insisted you address him as Sir now when he fed you or brushed your hair or smoothed lotion over your skin. He’d gathered a vast wardrobe of exquisitely soft, warm clothing and delicate scraps of underwear and he loved dressing you up. _‘I am turning into his little china doll,’_ you thought bitterly. 

But underneath his faux tenderness, you knew his frustration was rising, his resentment, as if you were keeping something from him. God, you’ve run your hands over every inch of his unfairly perfect musculature, you’d really, really tried. Just so you could end this. So you wouldn’t have to endure his jagged teeth tearing into your body, draining you. And waking up with unmarred skin, no sign of the damage done to you was even more infuriating, as if your suffering had no merit. So you could escape this lavish bedroom. James promised he’d let you go after you finished reading the history mapped on his skin, but it wasn’t like you could select the stories. You could only read the tiny, perfect script when it appeared.

Now, sitting in the warm, scented water, James’ arms around you, you thought of a new way to ask the thing you wanted to know, more than anything. ”How did you know I could, um, read you?” You stifled an alarmed squeal as his long fingers closed around your waist, briskly lifting and turning your body so you straddled him. Tightening your thighs so you could keep from pressing your pussy against his growing cock, you still pushed. “How could you have possibly thought-”

James was smiling at you oddly as his hands ran up and down your sides. On anyone else, you would have thought the smile was affectionate. “You don’t remember, do you?” When you wrinkled your brow, he chuckled, sliding one thick thigh between yours. “You were heading down the hallway at the office, trying to look over that stack of manuscripts and pathetic pitch letters and you nearly knocked me over.”

You leaned back and stared at him incredulously, trying not to notice that the precise, perfectly detailed musculature of his thigh was beginning to rub in a really distracting way against your center. “I- knock you over? Please.”

James laughed, “True. But when you fell against me you touched my bare arm with your hand. I felt it. A word. Sorin.”

“He is like the sun…” you noted absently, trying to stiffen your spine and pull away from the distracting motion of his hands on your hips, grinding you hard against his leg. 

“Yes,” he nodded. “A name. My name. My true name.” James chuckled bitterly. “Ironic, given that I can never really see the sun again. But you,” he grinned as your clit pressed onto his defined muscle, enjoying your little gulp, “you could draw it out.” His long fingers tightened on your hips, pulling you back and forth, back and forth over his sculptured thigh. But that was all. You’re such a little tease.” James leaned in, taking a little bite at your jaw, making you yelp again. “A seer who has to be connected to me to scribe my history. And I tried to make it easy for you…”

“This isn’t easy for me!” you snapped, trying to pull away, “And you told me I had to consent to f- fuh…” you trailed off for a moment, trying to grit back a moan. Your center felt swollen, throbbing in time with your heartbeat and your slick and the warm water moving you faster against that hard, long leg. Your white-knuckled grip on the sides of the tub was slipping. His goddamn gorgeous face was right next to yours, watching your responses, your little gasps and the way you gritted your teeth, trying to resist him.

“My sweet doll,” the monster wearing a human’s face purred, enjoying your hips moving faster along him while the rest of you fought against it. And when you sucked in a desperate breath and held it, he knew he’d won. He knew that you knew it.

 _‘Maybe this round,’_ you thought, shuddering against the last of your orgasm, _‘but not the game, you bastard.’_

Until the next day.

You looked up from the book you were reading _(The Art of War,_ looking for some tactics) when the door opened and James appeared, wearing a beautiful charcoal grey suit, a tie matching his eyes and carrying his briefcase and what initially looked like a pile of rags.

“How was your day, my doll?” He was smiling, this monstrous son of a bitch. It took you a minute to realize James was half-carrying the limp body of… no way. No fucking way. It was a girl, blonde, sickly-looking. She had to be a runaway, you were beginning to recognize the half-starved, half-feral look after some of the others your captor had brought home. But those… they were all adults, at least. But this kid? She couldn’t be more than what? Thirteen or fourteen?

“No…” He wouldn’t. He couldn’t, not this child. “You can’t be this evil, James! Not even you-” your voice broke. You were disappointed? Crying? Did you really think he wasn’t the monster he’d routinely proved himself to be?

The beautiful visage of the vampire hovered over the unsteady form of the girl, whose eyes were drooping. She didn’t seem in the slightest bit frightened, which made you both grateful and terrified about what he’d done to make her that way. His long fingers tightened on her shoulder. “You know what I want, doll.” 

James’ voice was a purr, the satisfied rumble of a lion after devouring the hyena, the far-off thunder warning of a deluge, a vibration that curled around your spine and sent slow waves of heat right to your center. Suddenly, every place he’d bitten you - this fucking, sadistic vampire asshole - began throbbing painfully. 

“Feed, or fuck?”

The heavy book fell from your numb fingers. “You bastard.” James was still smiling, humming slightly. The girl’s head was lolling sideways, mouth slack.

“You know the game, doll. Tell me now or I’ll snap her neck. It’ll be so easy…” his long fingers slid up her neck, spider-like, encircling it casually.

Your lips were trembling, you were trying to speak, trying to say the words.

“F-” you tried again. “Feed. Feed and fuck. From me. Let her go.” You knew the minute his eyes lit to a jubilant cobalt that you’d lost. Everything.

James planted you by the window and you looked out at the drizzly evening as an Uber pulled up and he put the girl inside. You watched his lips shape the words “youth shelter” and hand the driver a wad of cash.

Hearing the door open again, you closed your eyes. This was it. It was over. You’d never survive this. But maybe you’d die before telling this bastard his missing history.

Cool fingers ran along your cheek and you shuddered. “Oh, my sweet doll,” James soothed, “I’m so proud of you. Let your Sir take care of you.” He pulled you over to the bed, instead of the rug in front of the fireplace, where he’d taken all the others. “My bed is only for you,” he said, catching your glance, “only for my lovely little seer.”

You were hoping that you could just stay numb for this. Just… go away somewhere and pray it would be quick and maybe not hurt as much as feeding from you had. But oh, no. James was making this a ceremony. 

“Look at you…” he hummed behind you as he circled, running his fingers along your arms. You were wearing a pretty lace dress, mid-calf length in a light, light green. He’s buttoned all the tiny pearl buttons that run up the back of the dress that day before he left for work, and now he gleefully unbuttoned them, gently sliding one strap, then the other off your shoulders. You flinched as the fabric hit the wooden floor. “I knew these scraps of silk would be perfect on you,” James ran a finger inside the cup of your bra. The one he’d laid out that day. “So virginal and sweet.”

“I’m not a virgin!” you scoffed angrily, your last bit of resistance. 

Unperturbed, James removed your fabric defense. “No one has ever been close to you, my doll, not in the way we will. Connected and inside each other in every.” He kissed your neck, chuckling as you tried to shy away. “Possible.” Another kiss. “Way…” the last word ended in a growl and you stifled a whimper as his teeth gently worried the skin between your neck and your shoulder. And then his hands were cupping your ass and he was lifting you easily, this vampire bastard and- oh, fuck his lush mouth was on your breast, sucking half of it into his mouth and your legs suddenly wrapped around him, squeezing in terror.

“Please don’t bite me there,” you moaned, “please.”

But it didn’t hurt, James was lashing your nipple back and forth with his tongue, holding the little nub steady very carefully with his teeth. “Hmmmm…” he growled, “why haven’t I fed from you here? You’re so tender.” His dark head moved back and forth between your breasts, making appreciative grunts and growls that vibrated through the thin skin and made your legs tighten.

There were moments that made it painfully clear that no matter what face he wore, James was unnatural. This was one. He turned and pushed you back against the wall, then effortlessly lifted you until your legs were over his shoulders, the smooth wool of his suit rasping against your skin, and pressed his mouth in a filthy, open kiss against your pussy. This time you shrieked, his tongue driving up inside you, impossibly, unnaturally long and his hands held you motionless as it slithered along your passage, stroking and rubbing. He rubbed his stubbled chin against the sensitive furrow between your legs, blocking your desperate attempts to close your legs against him. Driving you into an orgasm took a humiliatingly short amount of time, and James laid you out against the smooth cotton sheets, hands and eyes roving over you like an offering. Like a sacrifice. Which really at this point, you had to admit with a watery chuckle, you were. He drew back then for a moment, examining your face. Whatever the beautiful monster saw there made a corner of his mouth curl up, and he stood to pull off his expensive suit, taking the time to remove his dress shirt when he caught you watching. James was beautiful, in an unearthly, impossibly perfect way. The firelight glowed off the planes of his chest, his eyes alight with amusement and some twisted form of fondness. And he looked at you as if you were something beautiful, too. Sliding back between your legs, his arms surrounded you, one behind your neck to lift your head for a kiss, the other under the small of your back to lift your pelvis to him. 

When you looked down, you gasped. “Oh, shit.” His cock was bigger than you remembered, and it had been terrifying enough from a distance, from being forced to watch him across the room. It was sleek, as thick as the rest of him and one thigh nudged you wider. When your gaze darted back up to his, it hit you. He wasn’t spelling you, or hypnotizing you or whatever he did to the other men and women he’d fucked in front of you. You wanted to be spelled. You wanted to forget but he wouldn’t even give you that. 

“So sweet, my little doll,” James whispered, “it will be all right.” 

He thrust up into you with his cock and his vicious teeth speared into your neck at the same time as you screamed. But it died away as you realized it didn’t hurt. Oh, you felt torn in half, but the pain was nothing, nothing compared to what he’d done to you in the past. And the feeling of his cock driving in and out of you made you barely notice his mouth suckling the blood gently from your carotid artery. It felt more like a gentle pull, his lips were so warm. James moved his hips in the same rhythm as his suckling and your arms were around him, holding onto his back before you noticed it. Maybe he was spelling you?

“No, doll this is all you. You and me.” James licked a stripe up your sluggishly bleeding neck, ignoring your look of horror. “Yes, love. I can read you, hear your thoughts when we’re connected like this. And I know what you’re feeling. My cock splitting you open? Spreading you wide? You’re squeezing me like a fist, doll…” His rhythm faltered for a moment as James groaned, “like a wrap of warm, wet silk. It’s, fuuuuck…” he drew out luxuriously, his strokes inside you lengthening too. The hairy base of his pelvis was stroking against your painfully swollen clitoris, the springy curls tickling and scraping against you. His teeth were back in your throat but you could hear him, your beautiful, horrible, terrifying, arousing captor. ‘Come, my sweet, precious doll. Come with me.’

James shouted as he came, flooding you with heat and wet, flooding you inside and slicking along your stomach and thighs. He’s always been so silent with the others… Then you heard a hoarse cry that you realized was coming from you and then it was nothing but warm and connection and everywhere you weren’t he was and it was…

Your fingertips were stroking his shoulderblade and then, there it was.

“Aleksei Volkov. That’s his name. The thing that killed you, James.”

  
  



	4. The Bloodsucker's Rave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which James takes you to a Pet Party. But you're not meowing for anyone.
> 
> Thank you to my lovely Wombatina with her assistance in a certain scene here.
> 
> It occurs to me as I post this on Christmas that this isn't exactly the warm, holiday greetings you might be looking for. Hah! Eh... at least there's smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for my beloved Wombat’s Ugly 4K Challenge on Tumblr. I picked James Buchanan Barnes, the song lyric, She shows no emotion at all. Stares into space like a dead china doll. (ElliotSmithLoverGuy Waltz #2) and the moodboard Dark City. There’s still time to sign up if you’d like to join in!
> 
> This is a follow up to my Vampire Steve story, It’ll Be Good For You. It might be more fun to read that first, but it’s not necessary to enjoy filthy, scary, sexy Vampire Bucky here.

_“Aleksei Volkov. That’s his name. The thing that killed you, James.”_

James was beautiful, there was no doubt. Extraordinarily masculine, and you’d had no trouble envisioning him as the rugged young Romanian lord he’d been, three centuries ago. But his undead state had given him a dark glamour that refined his features into symmetrical perfection, his body exquisitely defined. When you’d been hired on at his firm you’d had trouble even concentrating when he was in the same room, and you’d always averted your eyes to stay focused and un-flustered. Good days or bad, James usually wore the same expression of polite indifference, a slight smile curling the corner of his lush mouth.

But when his head shot up, blazing eyes staring into yours, James was something very different. His cock was still buried inside you, your combined finish slicking wetly across your heaving bodies, and he looked… young? Hopeful? It was such an alien thing - strange in its normalcy - that you simply stared back, fingertips still tracing softly across the skin of his back. _“Алексей Волков…”_ he said raptly, _“ticălosul ucigaș. Te am acum.”_

“Do you remember anything now?” you ventured, “Did his name, uh, spark anything?”

You watched his expression change, something sharper, more focused. “He has been following me for a very long time. He sends me… gifts.”

James sounded different, his speech more precise, more formal. “Uh, what kind of gifts?” you asked, fairly certain you did not want to know.”

“Bodies,” he answered absently. “Torn, broken into countless pieces. Their suffering legion.”

You suddenly felt frozen, his cool body still connected intimately to yours, heavy with muscle and legs twined. “Wh- why? Because you got away from him?”

“It is the greatest insult to a sire. To break from their hold.” James pulled his cock from you and you flushed miserably, seeing the blatant evidence of his finish and yours. “I have known for… perhaps fifty years? That he follows me. He leaves me these broken things to declare his presence.”

Sitting up in bed, you barely noticed James putting pillows behind your back. Wrapping the sheet over your breasts, you pondered the horror of what he’d just said. “This sick fuck is leaving a trail of tortured, dead people behind him like, what, like a ‘Hey, fuck you, James, for leaving me?’ Does he want you back or something?”

You were treated to a look of his spectacular ass walking away from you. “He wants me to _beg_ to return.” The firelight played along his face. The house was wired for electricity, but you knew James still preferred candles and firelight. “He will continue to destroy anyone associated with me until... “ he waved one big hand helplessly. “Until there is no one left but him.”

“So you’ve just been..." you impatiently pushed back your tangled hair, “you’ve been blind, just waiting for him to kill again? Because you never knew who he was. Did he leave any clues?”

This time, when James looked at you, you really, really wished he hadn’t. His blue eyes were an odd, blank polar shade. “Only the bodies.”

When James took you into the bathroom and settled you into the luxuriously huge bath, steaming in the hot water, you didn’t pull away. You didn’t even stiffen up when he slid in behind you and ran soap slowly over your breasts and belly. You didn’t protest when those big hands slid to your hips and lifted you on to his lap. "Not again?" you mumbled. But James didn’t move you further, merely bracing your lolling head on his shoulder until you fell asleep.

When you woke the next day, he was gone. Lunch was on the table with an uncompromising note. “Eat this. You’re losing weight again.”

“What, seriously?” you snarled, “It’s because you’ve been drinking half my body weight every night, you asshole!” Still, you took the tray and settled on the floor by one of the floor to ceiling windows. Another rainy afternoon, and the Sound was a flurry of choppy gray water. For the first time, the massive, quiet room felt comfortable. Comforting? You chewed your sandwich as you pondered it. There was very little foot traffic below, but you found yourself watching the few people who passed by. There was very little foot traffic below, but you found yourself watching the few people who passed by. You realized after a moment that you were trying to examine each pedestrian closely. Squinting through the windows of cars, trying to see who was inside. “Fuuuck,” you groaned, “I’m looking for him. For the monster who made my monster, and-”

Clumsily getting to your feet, you started pacing back and forth. Back and forth, touching the fireplace mantel and then over to the carved headboard of the bed and back again. There were so many things wrong with what you just said that you didn’t even know where to start.

When the door opened that evening, you were seated by the window again, knees drawn up to your chest, arms wrapped around them and making you as small and compact as possible. “Hey, doll.” That fucking James, voice smooth and pleasant, shifting through a couple of files as he seated himself. “How was your day?”

“Oh, the usual,” you said bitterly from your corner, “have some lunch, pace back and forth. Wait for that fucking vampire psycho dad of yours to come and rip me into pieces.” The sounds of the paper shuffling stopped and it gave you a moment of spiteful satisfaction. You could feel the chill of his shadow over you almost instantly.

“What did you say to me?” James spoke calmly still, almost a purr, in fact.

“Well, given your history, that’s next, right?” You were veering dangerously into the Realm of No Fucks Left To Give, so you met his gaze squarely. “We know he follows you. Leaves you a little calling card by turning a human into unrecognizable mush. Are you using me as bait now? Now that you know his name?”

He was in front of you before you could blink, towering over you. You felt the cool weight of his hands on your shoulders and swayed a little. His face was still impassive, sculpted lines smooth and symmetrical, but those blue eyes blazed like the fires of hell. You were shaking, James had to have felt it, but you locked your knees and glared up at him. The rasp of his thumb stroking over your throat sent up a spray of goosebumps in its wake.

“Go into the bathroom and take a shower. There will be a dress for you on the bed. I’m taking you out tonight.”

“Wha-” If this gorgeous bastard had told you that he’d just turned into an ice-skating dog and you’d be bearing his puppies, you couldn’t have been more weirded out. “You’re letting me … out? Out of _here?”_

James chuckled, even white teeth flashing. “Yes, pet. I’m taking you out on a date.”

The lights were blinding as you more or less stumbled after James, actually appreciating his tight grip on your hand. Your unfamiliar high heels had you wobbling like a newborn giraffe and you resented it. This place… where the hell were you? Just leaving the bedroom was overwhelming, seeing glimpses of his elegant house as you passed through, the brief trip to another garage and led into this … what the fuck was this place, actually? You were hit with a wave of longing for fresh air, actually feeling wet grass under your feet. This place felt as hard and cold as concrete, and about as welcoming. Leading you to a more private booth, James sat down and spread his legs. “Come to daddy.” His grin was almost criminal.

Grinding your teeth together, you muttered, “And I thought calling you ‘sir’ was bad enough.” He heard, of course. Of course, he did, even over the sultry house music from a tall, thin DJ who resembled a stick insect. Mr. Stick Insect looked up, a little startled as the vampire seating you on one thick thigh laughed loudly. 

Smoothing his hands over your waist and hips, James leaned closer. “We’ll save that for another time. What do you think of this place?”

“It’s…” what were you supposed to say? It was obvious these people - a lot of them - were like the man holding you. Beautiful. Blandly contemptuous. “It’s a bloodsucker’s rave, right?”

His hand tightened on your thigh, fractionally, and it was enough to make you choke a little. “This is the wrong time and place to develop your sarcasm, pet. Disrespect has consequences, and not just from me.” James loosened his grip and ran his hand up and down your leg, “Now drink your drink like a good girl.”

You gazed at it dubiously. James served you wine as you dined in captivity, but this seemed like a bad time to be fuzzy. Because this thing was getting extra creepy. There were others, leaning sleek heads together and whispering, watching the two of you. Gaze darting around the room, you did spot ordinary humans like you, most on their knees. Some gazing up at their non-human companions with a nauseating kind of adoration, the vampires absently stroking their heads or tugging on leashes or collars. “This isn’t…” James leaned closer and you took a gulp of your wine. “This isn’t like a pet party, right? I don’t care what you do to me, I’m not meowing.”

Again, James’ laughter rang across the room, he looked vaguely surprised to be laughing so much. But then his arm slid around your hips, yanking you closer. “My sweet little doll seems to be a lot more careless tonight. Are you thinking someone here might rescue you, maybe? Maybe…” his arm was incrementally tightening against you as his hand slid further up your thigh, your skirt pushed ahead of it. “...maybe you’re thinking you can get away with acting up here? Being naughty?” 

Your hands were fruitlessly batting at his fingers, nearly up to the lacy undies he’d pulled up your legs while dressing you for this occasion. “No, Ja-, uh, Sir, no I wasn’t.”

His chuckle rumbled against the thin skin of your neck. “Good girl.”

Lashes fluttering, you hated yourself briefly for the shiver you couldn’t control.

Allowing you to sit upright, James ran his hand absently up and down your leg. “We are gathering information tonight. You will sit quietly and be my sweet pet. And when we go home…”

Oh, shit. His big hand was going up your thigh again. 

“I will reward you.” He finished his instructions with a very soft nip to your ear lobe and you cringed at the little whimper that escaped you.

“James, how long has it been?”

The man standing before you looked like someone’s genial uncle, until you noticed the depraved glint in his eye as he gazed at your undies peeking out from your skirt, still raised indecently high. And, because he was holding the leashes of a young man and an even younger woman. They were naked and decorated with an impressive amount of piercings. 

“Miles,” intoned James, nodding to the Depraved Uncle Guy, “somewhere in the 20’s, I think?”

It took you a minute to realize he meant the 20’s from the previous century. His greeting wasn’t warm, but you were noticing most of the bloodsuckers here were mostly ignoring each other and focusing on the human entertainment. 

“Ah, the last Pandemic,” chuckled the man. He lightly tapped the back of the young man with the handle of the leash. “One never sees you out and among us. Who must I thank for this pleasing departure from your usual behavior?”

The heavily muscled leg underneath you turned to stone. You could feel the chill radiating from your captor against your bare back. “I’m looking for insight. Observation. Your wisdom, I think?”

Now you were certain the grin Miles wore was depraved. “Oh, now I am interested.” He seated himself at your booth, gesturing for a drink. His eyes settled back on you, intent and vaguely reptilian before he dismissed you and turned his attention back to James. “And what sort of insight?”

“Movement.” James was utterly still, it felt a bit like being perched on a boulder. “Activity. I… have a name.” 

You may not know anything about Depraved Uncle Guy (aside from he was a creepy bastard) but you could tell James hated speaking with him, hated asking him for information.

“Ah,” his fellow bloodsucker steepled his fingers, nodding gravely. “This is quite the development.” You could feel his pleasure in drawing the moment out, forcing James to speak first. 

There was the faintest whiff of a sigh from the mouth behind you. “Aleksei Volkov.”

The name meant something to the other bloodsucker, his eyes widened just a fraction, but it was the most animation you’d seen from the creep. The house music filled the silence as the two men stared at each other. You realized you were getting a bit dizzy because you’d been holding your breath, and you tried to draw in air as silently as possible. Miles’ reptilian gaze followed the rise and fall of your chest.

“Volkov is not a man I would wish to cross,” he observed, “he has quite the gathering of followers. Sloppy. Greedy. Many have met the sun as punishment, but no one would think of attempting to…” Miles pondered some more.

James was perfectly immobile, his arm across your lap keeping you the same way.

One of the pets scratched his leg.

You took a sip of your wine. It was heavy and bitter. You didn’t care for red wine and the look of this one even less, but you took another sip anyway. Glancing upward, your flesh crawled. Miles was following the movement of your throat as you drank.

“He spends much of his time with Gisane Laurent,” he volunteered.

“She exists? I thought she was a myth?” James was clearly shocked.

Miles was no longer smirking. “She exists,” he managed, “and she is far worse than the stories told, I assure you.”

As James leaned forward, the push of his chest on your back thrust you forward, too. Aaaand, that goddamn bloodsucker’s lizard gaze was back, lingering on your cleavage, more or less on display. “Where? Tell me, Miles and I can take care of… it.”

“Here is where I draw the line on our friendship,” Miles said crisply. “For this, I require payment.”

James leaned back, and so did you. “What form of payment?”

Depraved Uncle Guy gave him a fond smile. “Chattel.”

There was another moment of silence and staring and whatever mind games these two were playing with each other, but you were too scared to even take a sip from the glass clenched in your hand.

Smoothly sliding you from his lap, James rose and took your hand in his, gently placing your glass on the table. “Thank you for your time, Miles.” 

You heard a pained shriek from behind you and turned to see Angry and Depraved Uncle Guy slash the back of one pet, then the other with a riding crop, hard enough for a smart spurt of blood on the young man’s shoulder blade. Just as James yanked you through the door, you watched as others drifted over, like smoke to watch their suffering.

You put your hand on the rainy windshield on your way back to your high-end prison. The glass was cool and you were swamped with longing again to be outside. To feel the rain and the chill, look for stars between the ever-present clouds. Pushing the button to lower the window, you sighed when you realized it was locked.

“What are you doing?” scolded James. “You’ll get water all over my leather interior.”

“I just wanted to touch…” you struggled, “outside, I guess.” He gave you a brief glance and the rest of the ride back was silent.

“Wait.” 

She turned to James, eyebrow raised. She was already trudging up the stairs to the bedroom when the word escaped him. “Come here.” Oh, his girl was so wary, trying to make her way back down while edging away from him. He chuckled, taking her hand and pulling her along with him. Opening a door across the hall, he led her through.

“Oh…” It was half a sigh, half a sob from her as she stepped out. James’ home was surrounded by a high brick wall on two sides, enclosing a little garden not visible from the bedroom windows. There was the fanciful addition of twinkle lights that illuminated the lush grass, rose bushes and a carved wooden pergola. It sheltered the plump padded couch inside from the rain. He watched her slip off the expensive high-heels he’d given her to wear to the club and set her bare feet carefully in the wet grass. Her eyes closed and head tilting back, his doll breathed in deeply, those pretty breasts rising and falling. James folded his arms, leaning against the brick of his home as he watched her. 

Fingers delicately examining a tightly furled lavender blossom she asked, "What kind of rose is this?"

"Fleur Le Petit Éternité," he answered, still focused on the delicate touch of her fingers. "The strain grows with lavender in Provence."

"Did you plant it here because that's where you recovered your memories?"

James raised one brow. “Yes. It seemed... significant, I guess.” She was steeling herself, he could tell. He knew his doll’s ‘tells,’ now. How she’d square her shoulders, or tighten her jaw. 

“The guy you talked to, tonight? Miles, the creepy avuncular-seeming bloodsucker? Did he give you what you wanted?”

He was still chuckling a bit over her description, “Miles Oxley. No. Not completely. But I scared him.”

She’d moved on, examining another rose from a wild variety, the palest yellow.

His doll was brave tonight, he thought, a little angry but just a bit more amused by her. “Yes. He gives some information, just enough to make you desperate. Then charges an exorbitant price for the rest.”

This made her look up, brow furrowed. “Oh. What was his asking price?”

Shaking his head, James was beside her in a blink of an eye. “Something too high for me to pay.” Running one smooth hand up the length of her throat. “He gave me enough to know where to look.” Her lashes were fluttering, thick on her cheekbones as she struggled to look away from him. He slid one thumb to her chin to raise it, forcing her gaze up.

“You used me as bait, didn’t you?”

Now, his doll _was_ getting sassy. His fingers flexed slightly on her throat, “I thought I was.” Leaning down to press his mouth to hers, James ignored her little gulp as he slid his tongue between her lips. 

The early morning hour meant the air was chilly - hell, it’s always chilly in Seattle - but James was oddly warm, maybe because he’d been feeding off you so much. His hands slid to your ass and lifted you as easily as he did your breakfast tray. Your chest flushed pink as you felt his sculpted pectorals move against your breasts - shit, they were all sensitive now, nipple tight against the thin silk of the dress. The plunging back meant James didn’t give you a bra to wear that night and his fingers slid into the neckline easily, stroking over the thin skin there. You yelped when he abruptly lifted you higher, his beautiful face wearing a dark smile as he sucked your nipple into his mouth. Remembering how much it hurt when he’d bitten you there, you moaned, “Don’t- please, not there…” 

You wouldn’t realize until later that the game between you wasn’t played as always. There was no sinister query of ‘Feed or fuck?’ from James, no miserable choice from you. He just pulled the other strap of your dress down, baring you to the waist as his fingers toyed with one nipple and his lips with the other, very lightly holding the little nub with those terrifying teeth as his tongue batted it back and forth. His hand on your ass was squeezing deeply enough that you knew you’d have some bruises blooming tomorrow. You realized at the same time that you were standing in the middle of the garden, his expensive shoes planted in the wet grass and you stifled another yelp as he wrapped your legs around his waist and headed for the pergola. There was a huge wicker armchair, plump cushions in a green patterned fabric. Depositing you on your knees with your arms braced on the back of the chair, James tore your expensive silk dress in half and discarded the pieces. You braced yourself, expecting him to thrust into you. It would hurt- you weren’t nearly wet enough. His hands slid down your ass, taking your panties with him and then you were bare, shivering a bit, completely exposed to your captor. 

“Oh!” 

It wasn't James’ cock you felt, it was his cool lips and the slightest scratch of his jagged, monstrous teeth on your most delicate parts. He pulled one lip, then the other between his mouth, giving them a long, delectable suck that felt like he was trying to give you another hickey and it was oddly, wildly arousing. His tongue was sliding between your folds, collecting your slick with a shameless slurping sound. “Oh, my god, wait, James! Sir! I… oh…” He’d sucked your clit between his lips and it was so violently pleasurable that your back snapped into an arch and it took you a moment to realize he’d bitten one of your nether lips. It wasn’t painful, it didn’t feel like he was draining the life from you as it did when he fed elsewhere on you. It was… your mouth dropped open and panting, all logical thought was gone.

“I didn’t think anything could be sweeter than the blood from here…” One long finger traced along your inner thigh. “But here, doll, you are so goood.” James drew the word out drunkenly, his words a bit slurred as if the blood from your cunt had intoxicated him. His stubble scraped along your pelvis as you mindlessly pushed back on to his mouth. There was some, small coherent part of you that was screaming to stop, that you were no longer unwilling here, that you knew what he was doing. But you just… couldn’t, hands gripping the back of the chair desperately as his hands on your hips brought you against his tongue and lips. There was a trickle of something sliding down your leg, and you shuddered slightly, realizing it was likely not slick, but your blood. 

Then his cock replaced his tongue and the shock of it made you abruptly come. “Just like that,” James whispered his chin tucked on your shoulder, his coppery breath stinging your nose just a bit. “Such a good girl, coming for her Sir. My sweet doll.” This angle was odd, kneeling and the arch of your back pressing him hard against the front of your channel, the silky tip of him dragging relentlessly against delicate tissue and sparking nerves inside you. Your captor was whispering filth in your ear, telling you how lovely you were, how silky and snug you were inside. As your legs began shaking from the strain, James put his hands on your thighs. “Hold on, doll.” He pulled them up and wrapped them over his hips, sending you into an even tighter arch forcing you to come again. James chuckled and patted your swollen and excruciatingly delicate pussy lightly. “One more, lovely. One more before your arms give out.” His hips were slamming hard against the soft globes of your ass and his grip on you was getting tighter. Now he was patting your bare and defenseless clitoris and your stomach muscles convulsed. “One more,” you could hear the grin in James’ voice and you wanted to kill him. “Soak my cock. Come for me.” 

To your eternal fury, you did exactly that, letting out a moan before biting the cushion, trying to muffle your gasps. James let out a growl, something more wolf than human and he flooded you. His chest was heavy over your back, still, not panting of course. But he still sounded breathless as he praised you. “Gently…” he pulled himself from you and turned you. You flushed, realizing James was still fully dressed as he tucked his cock back into his trousers and zipped them up. But he removed his jacket, still examining your face as he helped you into it.

Oddly, James sat on the much-abused wicker chair, settling you on his lap and drawing your legs up under his borrowed jacket. Leaning your cheek against his neck, you could feel it- the tiny script raising on his skin. He looked down at you, frowning a bit as you ran your fingertips along his throat, tracing his jawline and his adam’s apple. “Volkov killed your brother Sandu…” You knew he didn’t need to swallow, but you felt him do it anyway. “You tried to engage with him to let your brother get away. But… Volkov took him first and then bit into you.” His fist tightened on his lap, knuckles white. “He tried to make you kill your mother, he had her by the neck, he was squeezing...” There was the slightest noise from James, a huff of a sigh. “But you pulled him off, threw him off the balcony. You ran, too. You could feel the blood lust taking you over.” Your fingers moved to one high cheekbone, and then his forehead. "Volkov found you, bound you to him. He would starve you sometimes to make you more vicious. But you never hurt your family. You didn’t.”

Dropping your head against his shoulder, you looked up at the sky, it was lightening now, the dark sky retreating from the first weak rays of the sun. “I’m taking you somewhere,” James said, abruptly lifting you and carrying you inside. “Somewhere you’ll be safe.”

“Алексей Волков... icălosul ucigaș. Te am acum.” - Murderous bastard. I have you now.


	5. The Blood Countess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you discover that no matter how hideous the myths and legends are, the reality is much worse.

“Doll. Time to wake up.”

Groaning, you tried to turn away from the voice, but a big hand on your arm flipped you over again to see James hovering over you like some well-dressed monolith. “We’re leaving in twenty minutes. Go shower-” he took a long, infuriating sniff and grinned, “-and get dressed.”

Suddenly aware of your still sex-disheveled self, you glared at him, wrapping a sheet around your nudity and scuttling for the bathroom. You’re furious that last night James just … fucked you in the garden and worse, that you didn’t put up a fight because of that small moment of kindness, letting you feel the outside world again. Turning the water as hot as you could stand, you slumped against the wall and steamed like a clam, trying to decide if you were angrier at him or yourself. “Does this count as Stockholm Syndrome?” you pondered, “Or, like relief that he didn’t put me on a leash at the creepy bloodsucker’s ball last night?” The expensive peppermint soap had no advice to offer you, so you sullenly rinsed off and stepped out.

“Doll…” He was instantly behind you, close enough to feel the cool planes of his body on your back, still steaming after being pummeled by your shower. 

“So the myth about not having a reflection is crap, huh?” you blurted, wiping the condensation off the mirror to see him looming behind you. 

His gaze was on your wet, heated skin and he leaned closer, feeling the warmth radiate from you. You yelped at the contrast from your steaming back and his chilled fingers. “Like most of the myths,” he answered absently. “Created by mortals to give them some illusion of power over the _Strigoi._ _”_

You shivered as his fingers trailed down your spine to hover just over the cleft of your butt.

When his hand gripped your ass, yours gripped the counter. “Didn’t you say we had to go?”

His gaze moved up from your body to stare at you in the mirror’s reflection. James’ blue eyes seemed to glow briefly, and he stepped back. “There’s clothes for you on the bed.”

It was depressingly similar to the night before, escorted from his car to a tented entrance to a small jet on the rainy tarmac. Before you could even turn to ask where you were going, his hand was urging you up the stairs and past a politely smiling pilot. After exchanging a few words with the woman, James walked back to settle you in a leather cushioned seat. “It’s chilly here in the cabin,” he said, focused on shaking out a ridiculously soft woolen throw over your lap, “I’ve had him turn up the heat.” He fastened your seatbelt and crouched beside you for a moment, smoothing your hair over one shoulder. 

When he leaned closer, you could smell his breath, an incongruous peppermint scent covering the tang of copper underneath. _‘Shit, that’s my blood I’m smelling,’_ you thought, holding back a shudder.

“You might be thinking, sweet doll, that you could try to talk to the flight attendant, maybe the pilot. Tell them the sad story of your captivity,” James said, hands absently smoothing the throw over your lap. “You’re wearing a dress that’s worth more than your pathetic little apartment downtown.” Fingering the necklace he’d put on you, James chuckled. “Expensive jewelry, well-cared for. So you can see you don’t meet the average profile of someone who needs rescuing.” You moved your legs restlessly and his hands turned to concrete, holding your thighs tightly. “I don’t tell you this because of my flight crew. They’d smile at you and tell me immediately. I’m telling you because if we do happen to run across anyone else and you try to get help, I will kill them.” You stilled instantly, and his hands resumed their soothing motion. “I will tear them to pieces right in front of you. Are we clear?” Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded. “Good,” placing a kiss on your slack lips, James smiled. “Good girl.”

You were out of the jet and into a BMW SUV with heavily tinted windows before you could even get a gulp of the new air. James didn’t bother to tell you where he was taking you, but the flight was short, less than an hour, and watching out the window showed you the jet was following the Pacific coastline. _‘Oregon, then,’_ you thought. _‘Now where?’_ As he turned the car in the direction of the steep mountain range near the airport, he finally spoke.

“You’re right that it’s no longer safe for you in Seattle,” his eyes were still on the road, but with that statement James certainly had your attention. “I have to make sure you’re safe while I’m looking for Volkov.” A warm feeling spread through your chest, he was actually worried about you? The feeling was crushed abruptly. “I can’t risk Volkov using you against me.” Even knowing it would cost you, you opened your mouth to snarl something insulting, but James continued. “Gisane Laurent, if Volkov is involved with her, this is much, much worse.”

Shifting in your seat to look at him, you asked “Who is she?”

“She is the truth behind the stories about Elizabeth Báthory, the-”

“The Blood Countess?” you gasped, “That shit is real? Bathing in her victim’s blood?”

His cool gaze made you shut up instantly. “She was a devotee of Laurent’s. She learned everything she knew from the monster. Laurent took advantage of her massive wealth and had hundreds of victims taken for her by Báthory’s guards. Laurent told her that if she bathed in the blood of her victims, she would retain her youth and beauty.”

You looked out your window for a moment, concentrating on the deep green of the forest to keep from gagging. “So the legends were true.”

“Not really,” James shrugged, “Laurent must have fed her small amounts of her own, undead blood. It would have made her younger and more beautiful, at least for a short amount of time.” He ran a finger over his full lips. “I didn’t think the monster was real.”

Leaning forward, you cautiously turned up the heat. You weren’t it would help the chills sinking through your skin but it was better than nothing. You’d been struck with a terrifying certainty that James had met the psycho bloodsucker during the blank period in his memory you’d had yet to read on his skin.

High enough up the mountain that your ears were popping, your beautiful captor pulled the SUV over. You could hear the faint pings from the engine in the silence between you, but you weren’t going to be the one to break it. His hand was on your thigh first, pushing your dress up like he had the night before. “You’ll be staying with a close friend of mine, and my star client.” His fingers tightened, just a fraction. Enough for you to pay decisive attention. “You might think, once you get comfortable, that you might share our rel-” James paused for a moment, and you blinked. You’d never seen him hesitate before. “That you might share our arrangement. It wouldn’t bother Steve, he knows. But Aura is still fragile. She only knows that you’re in danger and you’re here for a safe place. If you try to tell her anything different. If you try to leave…” His fingers suddenly slid into your silk undies, pressing hard against your clit. His other hand took your chin, lifting it and forcing you to look at him. “I will know.” His fingers were swirling in a pattern along your cunt that was already making your toes curl. “You won’t get away.” Two long fingers slid up inside you and you bit back a gasp. James was watching your expression intently and it was humiliating, feeling yourself getting slick, your lips softer and a bit thicker. “But I will punish you.” A slow smile spread across those plush lips as you let out a quiet little whimper from the movement of his fingers, sliding in and out of you, slicking up and moving to bracket your clit and pulling. Your hips shot up and you gripped the door handle. He breathed in deeply, scenting your arousal and infuriating you. 

“Just- wait- I’m going to get a spot on the back of my dress. Don’t-”

“Oh, that would be embarrassing,” James gave you a look of faux sympathy. “Let’s move your dress out of the way.” He had the silky cashmere wrap dress yanked up around your waist by the time he finished the sentence, still toying with all your sensitive parts. “Do you understand everything I’ve said to you?” 

Your lips clamped tight together. You would not give this bloodsucking son of a bitch the satisfaction of making you come. There was none of the curious kindness from last night, he was watching you as if you were an amusement, a spectacle, completely separate from the act aside from his goddamned fingers that wouldn’t stop-

Two fingers pressed hard on the inside of your channel while his thumb pushed against the same place on your soft mound and this time your whimper was quite clear as you pressed yourself against the door, not sure if you were trying to retreat or push against his fingers. James settled the issue for you by pushing higher inside than was comfortable but also found you clenching your thighs against his hand. 

“Do you understand, doll?” Shit, you were right there- almost tipped over the edge and his fingers pushed again. “Do. You. Understand?”

James punctuated his words with a sharp thrust and you gasped out, “Yes! I do, really! I won’t say a- ah…” Your promise devolved into a sigh as a rough brush of his thumb over your clit made you sag into your seat. _'So this is what coming against your will feels like,'_ you thought dimly.

“Welcome!”

You forced a smile at Aura. She was hurrying up the stone path to you, beaming at you and James, who was towering over you. Of course, you know who she is. The star client of the man holding you hostage. And the man following Aura was- good lord he was like the Paul fucking Bunyan of vampires. You knew _what_ he was. After weeks of living with James, of course, you knew what he was. 

Aura seemed a little taken aback by your weak greeting, but her hand went up, thrusting uncomfortably at yours. “Nice to meet you?”

You could feel the chill rolling off the two bloodsuckers bookending you, so you shook her hand with vigor. “Um, thank you for having me. I’ve read every one of your books, I think I’ve read _A Bad Idea_ at least-” you broke off, embarrassed, but it was apparently just the right thing to say, because Aura beamed and both James and that gigantic fucking lumberjack both chuckled.

“I always feel vaguely foolish for just mumbling, ‘thank you?’” the author said, “but, you know, thank you.”

There was the smallest spark of something in you to hear how pleasantly awkward this rich, famous woman was, so you smiled back with a little more warmth. And then the heavy hand of James landed on your shoulder. “Let’s go inside.” As the other two turned to lead the way, your beautiful captor leaned closer. “Remember what I’ve said. Be a good girl. You don’t want to disappoint me in front of my friends, do you?”

Shuddering, you bit back a snarl. “No. No, I don’t.”


	6. The Illustrated Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you struggle to act like visiting another vampire lair with your undead captor is perfectly normal. Or else.

Following Aura down the hall, you rubbed one wrist and then the other. “This is a really nice place,” you said. It was actually an effort to remember how normal people spoke to each other. Nothing about your entrapment with James was normal.

“Thanks, but this is Steve’s place,” Aura opened a door, leading into a spacious guest room with a river rock fireplace and a curved log bed. Eyeing the rustic bed piled with quilts, you smothered a hysterical little giggle, trying to picture the elegant vampire holding you captive nestling down in this lumberjack paradise. She walked over to the window, pulling aside the heavy blackout curtains. “There’s a beautiful view of the lake from here,” she said, “the sun- not that we get much here- turns the surface of the water this silvery shade, it’s amazing.”

Shifting from foot to foot, you smiled and nodded. Did Aura not know who she was with? Did she not know her gigantic lumberjack-supermodel looking guy was a bloodsucker? When exactly was she even seeing her surroundings during the day? 

Clearing your throat, you offered, “Uh, James says you two are both night owls?”

“Oh, yeah,” Aura chuckled, “I just got into the habit of working at night before I met Steve, so our schedules matched up perfectly.”

“How long have you been here?” you asked, “I work- uh, I used to work at James’ office and he never discussed you, but I know you’d moved from Seattle.”

Aura looked out at the moon, illuminated over the lake below. “Just a few months. At first, I thought Steve was the biggest asshole-” A shocked giggle came from you, and she chuckled, too. “But, he…” fiddling with the blackout curtains, she continued, “Steve saved me. There was- anyway, he’s saved my life. In more ways than one. Anyway, I’m dragging myself out of my comfort zone and telling you all my personal stuff to trick you into opening up…” You offered up a painfully uncomfortable smile, remembering James’ threats. While fingering you into an orgasm. “I just want you to know,” Aura continued, “that Steve and I will keep you safe. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I know you’re in the right place.”

Nodding your head, you tried to keep up your smile. She invited you- a complete stranger- into her home. But it felt horrible, like you were keeping things from her. Because she didn’t know what James was. 

Helping Aura make dinner, you looked out at the deck, where James and Steve were speaking in low, urgent tones. If his vamp daddy was as nuts as he thought, and he was running with a crazy bloodsucking bitch who’s terrorizing mankind since before the French Revolution then you were genuinely terrified. For yourself, certainly. But a part of you was deeply worried for James. Trying to ignore that irritating part of your brain, you seated yourself and grinned malevolently at the two bloodsuckers faking enthusiasm when Aura cheerfully urged them to “dig in!”

James said a fairly abrupt “goodnight!” to your hosts and you pretended you didn’t see them smother their amusement. You were barely inside the door of your room when your dress was suddenly off and you were flying onto the bed with a little yelp. 

“I’m leaving soon,” he said, stripping off the suit he was still wearing in the middle of the goddamn mountains. He watched a little smile flicker across your face and raised one perfect brow. “Yes, darling?”

You waved your hand vaguely, trying to sit up. “Your undead buddy is coated in plaid and you’re still in your Tom Ford suit. I guess rustic isn’t in your wardrobe, huh?”

Pulling off his sapphire silk tie and winding it between his hands, James grinned, using a dark tone that made you clamp your thighs together. “Insolent, mouthy little pet. You’ll pay for that.”

And you did, hands tied to that twisted log headboard and trying to grit your teeth against the moans the hateful bastard was trying to drag out of you as he feasted from your embarrassingly wet, swollen center.

It was after when your shaking fingers traced along James' rib cage and chest when you read what you already suspected. "What?" he asked, his voice surprisingly calm.   
  


"You know her. Laurent. That bitch-" your voice was suddenly venomous and you could barely contain your rage, "-that bitch used you to draw victims into her country house. The place you called an aristocratic charnel house." Your hand slid over his protruding hipbone. "That- that bloodsucking cunt had Volkov starve you. You'd fight others- tear them apart and it was considered the grandest sort of sport for her little fucking clique. She'd have sex with you on top of dead bodies, lick the blood off of you."

His body was like stone, but James put your hand back on his chest. "Go on."

"The police or the army or something? They found out about her little concentration camp for humans and raided the place. You just barely escaped. She was furious you left her. God, this psycho cow! She's been looking for you ever since, she and Volkov. She's deeply _hurt_ and angry you got away from her. She's _hurt..."_ you hissed, "your ex-girlfriend is a piece of work, James."

His big hand covered yours, stopping you. James was paler, face set in hard lines and for a moment you felt terrible for him. "Not my lover. Not even my kin. And I will end her." He left the room abruptly, as if not wanting to show you that he was capable of the weakness of an actual emotion. 

Your lids were definitely at half-mast as James strolled back into the room, magnificently nude and carrying a cloth to wipe you clean. There was definitely something about reading the words that rose on his skin that was alternately exhausting and exhilarating. You still didn’t understand how you - of all boring, ordinary people you were the most boring and ordinary - was the one to read this complex, infuriating monster. That it elevated you, somehow, the connection you felt to the centuries before you were born. But as he swept the cloth gently over your wet center, your breasts and arms, you almost - almost! Let out a purr before you stopped yourself. 

“Roll over.”

“Hmmm?”

James took your hips in those gigantic hands of his and flipped you himself, effortlessly. Like you were lighter than a feather. You crossed your arms under your chin and linked your ankles together, suddenly uncomfortable. “What are you-”

You heard the sound of the pen uncapped, it was the expensive one he always kept in his suit pocket. Elegant, and it created a thick scrawl of the signature you’d seen on so much paperwork. Back when you worked. Before this. “It occurs to me,” James finally spoke, “that while you can read me, I can’t do the same.” You sucked in a gasp as he straddled you, settling just below your ass and his cock - still heavy and thick, even in its resting state - nestled between your thighs. Fingers trailed up your spine. “That doesn’t mean,” he mused, “that your lovely body doesn’t tell a story.”

“Lovely?” you half-snorted, what was this compliment shit? His hands tightened on your hips, then slowly loosened again. You bit your forearm lightly. ‘Shut up, you idiot!’ 

James flexed his hips once, twice, rubbing his cock deeper between your legs and you stifled a whimper. But then, you felt the fine point of his pen against your shoulder blade. “There is a story to tell here, my sweet doll,” he murmured. His movements were quick, precise and having seen his beautiful handwriting you could picture the characters spreading out across your skin.

“Wh-” you cleared your throat and tried again. “What story?”

He didn’t answer you, but you rested your chin on your hands, feeling oddly nervous. Really? You were nervous about him writing on your skin after everything this- that James had done to you? But the feeling was centered and quite specific, your skin acutely aware of the tip of the pen flowing over one shoulder blade and the other and then trickling down your spine like raindrops. Shifting your hips, you closed your eyes as James delicately traced the ink along your ribcage.

The sensation began to feel more like liquid fire, everywhere the pen traveled along your skin. Your brow furrowed. Everything was so… so much. James hovered so closely that you could feel the heat from his body, borrowed from you, really, after taking your blood. The light sound as he hummed occasionally as he wrote. The crackling of the fire - did all vampires have a thing for big-ass fireplaces? And then his long fingers combing absently through your hair as the pen traveled lower, looping and scrolling in the soft hollows above your ass, James leaning back to write and pushing his rapidly stiffening cock between your buttocks. So when he capped his pen with a deliberate ‘click’ and turned you to your side, you let him, watching his grave expression as he lifted your leg over his hip, opening you to slide himself inside again.

A sharp, indrawn breath from you and a question. “When can I see what you wrote?”

His chuckle vibrated from his broad chest into your, stimulating your nipples into stiff peaks. “Tomorrow. When I’m gone.”

James watched her changing expressions intently as he slid from her and pushed back in, setting a long, slow stroke that sent his cock into all the tender parts of his doll. Such a sweet, hot grip she had on him. She usually refused to look at him when he fucked her, but this time… his doll was watching him too, a little frown between her brows. Whatever she was thinking didn’t interfere with her response. His eyes cooled to a silver-blue as he fought to control himself. The heat of her, the slickness. There was something… “There’s something about being inside you, pet,” James murmured, his hand sliding over her hip to rest on her stomach and pressing in, enjoying feeling the pulse of his cock inside her as he gave an especially sharp thrust. He kissed her as she sucked in a sharp breath, sealing the breath inside her mouth as his tongue played with hers. Angling his hips, James pushed hers out too, intensifying the feeling of his shaft rubbing against the front of her passage and the light flutter of her silky walls along him. “I would bury all of me inside you if I could,” he growled, trying to hold on to his self-control. “Completely immersed in your perfect cunt-” His doll made the most adorable chirping sound when he spoke to her during sex, James enjoyed seeing her stubbornly stoic exterior melt into shock as he whispered filthy things to her. He knew she would die of humiliation if she knew she made that little noise. Circling her belly button with one finger, he drew his other arm over her chest, her breasts pushing past the width of his bicep.

“Lift your leg higher, my sweet doll.” He was pleased when she actually did as she was told. This stubborn creature never stopped fighting him, stiff and angry in bed until he tormented her enough with his lips, tongue and cock to give into him. James enjoyed the challenge. But tonight… maybe she was soft and pliable because she hoped he’d be torn apart by his sire. Another choked gasp escaped her and she grabbed his arm across her breasts, just holding on. “There you are…” James whispered devilishly, reaching so deep inside her passage that his girl was nearly frozen in place. “Ah-ah!” he chided when she tried to move away from the intensity of holding his cock so deep, “You’ll take what I give you. In fact…” his mouth was against the thin skin of her throat and he chuckled, enjoying her convulsive swallow. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you want to come, don’t you, baby?” He gave her slippery clit a brisk pat, enjoying how she clamped down on his cock, holding him in place. “I want to bite you again,” James groaned. “You smell so good. Like a banquet.”

And her sass returned, “Th- the opposite of dinner tonight, huh?”

“Oh, you bad girl,” he said, genuinely pleased as his hips slammed against the soft globes of her ass and his wet fingers returned to her center, circling and stroking teasingly in contrast to the almost vicious pace he was using to fuck her. James was an expert in his doll’s expressions, the sounds she made, the moans and the way her spine would stiffen, then arch as she came. So when she did, his teeth slid into her, separating flesh like his cock did below and James came too, completely buried inside her in every way.

Wrapping his arms more tightly around her shaking form, the vampire pulled his mouth from her, licking the thin trickle of blood away. James knew she was confused. He always pulled away after sex and went for something to clean her. But this time, he slid his legs against the back of her thighs, resting snugly and rocking her just slightly as she fell asleep.

When you woke, it was already late afternoon, shadows edging sharply over the lake below and turning the water slate grey. James was gone, your thighs were still sticky. You didn't dare shower and remove any of his words, so after sponging yourself clean you dressed in a soft pair of leggings and a roomy shirt and went looking for your hostess.

"Hey, Aura?"

The other woman turned to look at you and smiled shyly. "Hey, another late riser, I see. And thank god. I didn't want to wake up early for you." Laughing as you took a mug of tea from her, you fidgeted while taking the first, searing hot gulp. 

"Um, I was wondering, do you have a hand mirror?"

If she thought your request was odd - you had a gigantic mirror that stretched half the length of the guest bathroom - Aura didn't show it, heading into hers to grab hers for you.

Making a hasty retreat back to your room, you took a deep breath as you turned your back to the reflective wall and dropped your shirt. Lifting the hand holding the little mirror, you looked at your back.

It was a manuscript. A novel. A river of beautiful, perfectly shaped characters that flowed over your body. "Oh..." you sighed, and began to read.


	7. Stares into Space Like a Dead China Doll...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival of a vicious, 800-year-old vampire is never a happy thing. Especially when she wants to kill you for being James' precious pet.

You spent the rest of the afternoon in a misty kind of happiness, but by the time you and Aura began to prepare dinner, you were both unsettled. Moving around each other with tight smiles and endless glances out the kitchen windows until she put down her knife with a ‘thunk!’

“Okay. I’m just going to blurt this out and assume you don’t think I’m crazy,” she began, “I was stalked long enough to get a sixth sense when things go sideways. I know James is off handling some… uh, thing. But I still feel itchy and kind of anxious. What about you?”

“Oh, I think I love you!” you blurted, “I mean not really, not like that, but yes!” Relieved that Aura was laughing and not edging toward the stairway and screaming for Steve, you rubbed your eyes. “It feels wrong. I don’t have your spidey sense, but yeah.”

Opening a drawer, she pulled out a gun as your eyes widened. Popping in a clip and sticking another in her pocket, Aura carefully held it up. “Do you know how to shoot?”

Vaguely ashamed, you shook your head. “Apparently I have only defended myself with my wits in the past, and that was clearly unsuccessful.”

Blessedly, Aura laughed at this. “C’mon, let’s take my pistol out back and practice. It will at least feel like we’re doing something constructive, right?”

This was how Steve, her gigantic-ass lumberjack vampire boyfriend found you an hour later.

“I thought I told you not to leave the house,” he was sternly looking down at Aura, who was slapping in a new clip.

“Hey, honey. You have to see how good our girl is already!” You silently admired her, no fear. The woman was badass.

Blue eyes flicking to you and back again to Aura, he was clearly unimpressed. “I gave my word to James to protect her,” he said, voice heavy with disapproval. “Do you think shooting up our pine trees is a slick, undercover move?”

You were marveling silently at their exchange, keeping as un-noticed as possible. How did she have this kind of relationship with a bloodsucker? Where she stood up for herself and didn’t have to make decisions about how lives or dies because it meant her captor drinking her blood? His blond head bent over hers and they were whispering together, and your heart suddenly hurt- physically hurt like it was being squeezed by a fist. How is it that Steve and James were both vampires, but while yours was off attempting to kill his blood daddy, Aura’s was here, smiling down at her as they communicated, almost silently? You would never have this. What would James do when he was finished with you? When his story was told? A chill wind came roaring up the mountain and you shivered. Steve looked at you again, brow furrowed.

“Come on, ladies. Inside.”

It was a good night. 

Steve and Aura kept you laughing with stories from the mountain, how she’d thought he was just the irritating handyman until he admitted he owned pretty much everything on the mountain, right down to the dirt. “So, how do you and James know each other?” you were still chuckling, so you didn’t see the sudden chill in his eyes.

“I didn’t really until his assistant booked the cabin for Aura and asked me to keep an eye on her.”

He was lying. _He was fucking lying_ and Aura, who seemed so smart and badass, obviously was totally buying it. Please. Two fucking bloodsuckers and they meet up because of one endangered author? You’d heard the low urgency James had used when they’d spoken on the phone, the familiarity of long acquaintance when they’d hung out on the deck here. Why was Steve lying? Avoiding his gaze, you watched Aura instead, eyes warm and one small hand on his beefy forearm.

“This mountain was my refuge,” she was saying lovingly, “Steve was my refuge.”

Taking an unsteady gulp of wine, you nodded. “That sounds crazy… romantic.”

You’d spent some time in your bathroom that night, trying to use the phone James had given you to take pictures of his script on your back. It made you dangerously soft, damn him, but you wanted it - you needed to keep the image of it as some kind of proof that there was more between you than just blood and stories. Twisting every which way still didn’t give you a clear shot, but you were so focused that you didn’t see the cadaverously thin creature behind you before he got his hands around your throat.

_Later..._

“How’s my doll?” James rubbed the back of his neck. This was everything he hated; too many variables, outcomes not settled, questions still raised about who to trust. And worst was having his girl, his sweet scribe under the protection of someone else.

He could hear footsteps as Steve left his bedroom shutting the door behind him. “She’s fine. Suspicious little thing. Aura took her out back and they were shooting up my pines like Annie Oakley.”

Laughing despite himself, James mused, “I met the real Annie Oakley. She performed with her husband in London in the late 1800s. Face like a bulldog but when she let loose with those pistols, there was nothing sexier. Thighs like steel bands, too.”

Steve grunted. “I don’t want to know.”

James was about to taunt his friend with the memory of a particularly disastrous encounter he’d rescued Steve from which resulted in the two of them being chased out of Moscow by Alexandra Feodorovna’s Royal Guard when his connection to his doll flared low in his gut, searing like a flaming torch had passed over him. “Where is she?” His voice was barely recognizable.

“What?” Steve’s tone sharpened, too, “She’s in her room, I-”

“They’re hurting her!”

It took everything in you not to scream, but you still flopped like a gutted fish as that fucking bitch drew her razor-sharp fingernail along your stomach, leaving an ugly slash of skin behind her. You heard the mocking laughter of those other bloodsucking fucks circling the two of you, but you didn’t give them the satisfaction of hearing your agony. 

But it was only a matter of time.

_Earlier..._

"Awaken, whore!"

You'd rolled over on your back, still coughing from being choked out by that Nosferatu-looking asshole to see- _"Miles?"_ you gasped, "What are you-?" A kick to your ribs sent you onto your stomach and curled up like a potato bug from the spike of pain.

"You do not speak to your betters, _flesh."_ He was ostentatiously examining his nails, ignoring your wheezing attempts to gather your breath again. "But it will be your very great honor to meet your new mistress."

There were footsteps behind you, and a smell- god, it was unspeakable. A scorching odor of spoiled meat, the foul scent of rust and iron, the cloying mist of a thousand heavy perfumes, and a pointed black boot shoved you over onto your back again. You could feel her before she stepped into your view, feel the screams from a thousand different throats, the horror of your impending death. 

_"C'est la pute qu'il protège?"_ She had an irritatingly false little girl tone, accompanied by a childish titter that set off the sycophantic giggles of the crowd. Because yes, the fucking psycho bitch who just called you a whore was the Blood Countess herself, and the walking corpse had brought quite the crowd of bloodsuckers with her. "You," Gisane Laurent was beautiful, but with a coarse viciousness that would make it impossible to draw anyone to her without the help of someone pretty. Someone like your James. "So ugly. Does my sweet Sorin lack for blood bags? He is reduced to _this?"_ So you looked her over as the 800-year-old bitch circled you, clawed hands on her hips, her high, polished black boots boasting a spiked heel that you were certain could disembowel you, along with a tight, red silk dress low enough that the ancient psycho’s tits were ready to fall out. There had to be at least thirty, forty black-clad leeches behind her, and your heart sank. You could only hope Aura, slightly odd Aura who'd been so nice to you and taught you to shoot her gun, was already being spirited to safety by Steve. Because no way was he taking on this crowd of malignant fucks and surviving.

And neither was James. 

Dropping your head back onto the dirt, you chuckled a bit. You were so fucked. 

Determining that having James come to the rescue just meant that both of you were dead somehow made it all easier. Hoping for a quick end because you’d never been good at enduring pain and you were terrified about what you would become if this lasted very long. You moaned and gagged on your own blood as Gisane backhanded you, the smell of her - that horrible, spoiled meat smell - making you wish you could throw up on her. But you’d voided dinner about an hour ago as that fucking Miles had been working you over. You kept feeling an odd tugging at the base of your neck, some determined plucking of your ganglia, perhaps, something trying to make itself known. But as that spoiled meat-smelling bitch knocked you into a tree trunk hard enough that you felt something snap, there was a moment of relief as you lost consciousness.

It could've been like five minutes later, or an hour or fifty years but all you knew was some asshole was yanking you upright and dragging you toward the bonfire again. _It really is such a pretty night..._ you thought mindlessly, staggering along. There were a million twinkling stars scattered over the black sky, the pines around you smelled so crisp and fresh, almost blocking out the stale smell of blood that you were pretty sure was coming from you. And then you saw him, and your heart sank. "Aw, damnit."

It was James. He looked amazing, of course. His dark blue suit and cobalt tie were among your favorites and he was strolling casually, hands in pockets as if he had not a care in the world.

“I’m really quite disappointed in you,” Miles said, ignoring the fury from the vampire barely holding himself in check. “You really wouldn’t give me this flesh for the answers you needed?” He was casually gripping the girl by the neck, long, taloned fingers stroking the pulsing artery there. 

James watched the look of shock, then comprehension pass over her pretty, and bloody features. Her gaze was surprisingly soft until the grip around her neck tightened. He knew Miles was hurting her- with an uncomfortable knife twist in his gut, he realized he knew this because he’d hurt her so many times that her expression was quite familiar. But even as the spidery grasp of the monster squeezed harder, she pressed her lips together, refusing to scream. “You’re pathetic enough to use food to hide behind, Miles? So weak…” James chuckled abruptly, watching the fury twist his features.

“Hmmm, your pet won’t scream for me? I’m sure I can find something…” The crowd of blood-drinkers behind Miles chortled and hissed as a strangled screech came from her. “Not much,” the monster taunted, “but I am certain that Lady Laurent will coax something much louder before she’s done stripping the skin off her body.”

James could feel the bond between them - a weak tug at most at this point - but still there. _I feel you, my sweet girl, he thought, I do. Do not give up hope._ Her eyelids fluttered and a faint smile turned her bloody lips before she lapsed into a blank stare.

"This..." it was a hiss as Gisane strolled around from the cover of her undead retinue. "This is what you choose, my Sorin?" She arched her neck, trailing red fingernails down the pale skin. "You hide yourself from me, my love? And settle for what, a blood bag? A _human?"_ This, he remembered, how her voice would pitch higher and higher in her rage and spite until Gisane's florid French accent devolved into a hiss. "Look at her!" She gripped a handful of his brave girl's hair. "She shows no emotion at all. Stares into space like a dead china doll." She barked out a laugh, eagerly followed by the others.

James could feel the pulsing agony flowing through their bond, wrapping around his spine and making him grit his teeth. “You were always so threatened by other women, you useless sow,” he said casually, strolling around the fire, “always so fearful that someone younger, more beautiful would draw every eye from you. Keeping all of us half-starved, trying to hold our attention. Your reign is over. You disgust me. Even your children shudder when you touch them.” Her beautiful face twisted in hatred, and he smiled pleasantly. “Ah. but you already know, don’t you? Drowning in perfume to hide your stink?” James turned to Miles, who was backing up slightly, but still had a grip on your arm. “And you. Is there nothing you won’t stoop to? You, at least, had a chance to survive in this new century. You’re not as decayed as Laurent.”

“You chose the wrong side this time, James.” Miles had the fucking nerve to sound genuinely regretful.

“Tell me, Laurent, what is your intention?” James was at his most infuriating, mocking best, and he knew it would infuriate the ancient monster. “I ask you to spare the girl, that I will swear my devotion to you forever? Oh, but where is my-” he felt his disgust rise, and something more, some ancient dread crawling up his spine like a scorpion. “-my sire? Is he to be part of our happy, happy family?”

The creature facing him stretched her teeth in a hideous, bloody grimace. The expression turned her eyes to fiery slits and blackened spiderwebs of wrinkles distorted any remaining beauty. “Oh, my sweet boy. You will crawl to him, begging his forgiveness. And you will spend the next century earning it.” She cackled as his blue eyes scanned the crowd. She remembered her Sorin. His beauty and how dear Aleksei loved playing with him. Starving him to the point of gnawing his own flesh. Sorin’s savagery in battle. And here he stood having the arrogance to not fall to his knees to her? He had not glanced again at the wretched blood bag, so perhaps it was not as dear to him as Miles claimed. Still… Gliding over to James’ thrall, she grabbed it’s hair, appreciating it’s hiss of pain. “Oh, then I am pleased to dispose of _this,_ since it is no longer of use to you.”

And then James chuckled, _he chuckled!_ Something flew into the bonfire, making it roar outwards in a flash of light so painfully blinding that the vampires screamed, arms across their eyes. Some caught fire and ran wailing blindly, into the trees. When the searing flare of silver-white light receded, the girl was gone, Miles on the ground with a giant branch shoved viciously through his chest, the old vampire already crumbling to ash.

“It feels better already,” observed Steve, and the remaining bloodsuckers looked up, snarling to see him standing by James and behind them, the shadows of twenty or so others. “Miles always did stink up the place. What about that one?” he gestured to an enraged Laurent, fangs out and so long they were scraping her chin. At the threat, her children clustered around her, growling. 

_“Bâtard inutile!”_ the woman screamed, beginning to stalk forward with her clawed hands flexing, yearning to tear and rend at the two who had the foolishness, the madness to look at her with such contempt! But they stepped forward, their dark allies as well and then it began, the battle, the bloodbath that the most vicious vampiress in 800 years had yearned for. But at the end, after the screeches and howling, the nauseating smell of a slaughterhouse was all that remained. 

James was adorned in gashes and blood, but he stepped over what was left of his monstrous French mistress. She was ancient and powerful, and fought her end, panting for air she couldn’t use as she disintegrated. Watching her snarl, James smiled as he bent closer. “Centuries of torture and in the end, you are only dust beneath my boot.” 

There was only half a mouth left to answer, but Laurent managed to hiss, “There is still Aleksei. You can never kill him-” His foot slammed down and crushed what was left of her face.

“How did you- where is-” you were stumbling behind a determined Aura, who was yanking you along as you held your other arm awkwardly against your bleeding abdomen. “Please, Aura-” This time you tripped over a rock and went down, tears of frustration and shame running tracks through the dirt and blood on your face. 

Groaning, Aura stopped, looking around you into the darkness, sweeping her gun back and forth. “I’m sorry, I know you’re hurt. But I have to get you out of here and to safety. You know those two won’t be able to concentrate if they think we’re still out here, stumbling around in the woods.” She really did look guilty, and you were pretty sure you looked like shit.

“I can… just gimme…” you could feel yourself losing consciousness and bit the inside of your mouth hard, the coppery taste flooding your tongue and making you want to vomit. But the pain kept you awake and you struggled upright again.

“Thank you!” Aura panted, “I’ll get you in the truck and you can rest. We’re almost safe.” Sure enough, there was Steve’s battered truck parked in the clearing and she helped your shaky ass up and on to the seat. 

It hurt so much to get your seatbelt on, you were pretty sure a couple of your fingers were broken, but soon you were rattling out of the woods and back on to the road. “Where… where’r we going?” you managed, head falling against the glass with a thunk. 

“My cabin,” Aura said, speeding slightly faster on the winding mountain road that was safe, but hey, what was these days? “I’ve got a panic room built into it. Steve says no one - not even the vampires - can get in there.”

“So you know he’s a vampire?” you blurted.

Looking at you as if you were possibly the most stupid person on the planet, she said, “Are you kidding? Have you looked at Steve? Duh!” Sliding to a stop in front of another cabin, she not-quite hauled you out of the truck. “C’mon, I got you. Keep walking, just a little more, okay?” You tried to push your numb feet faster, they were cut and bloody too, from your little romp through the forest. Inside at least, it was blessedly warm as Aura dragged you through a kitchen and opening a metal door covered in a thin layer of pine and fashioned to look like the rest of the cabin. “Once I engage these locks, nothing gets in,” she said confidently, settling you on the bed and racing back to the door.

“Not even asshole bloodsuckers?” you managed, lying down with a moan.

Watching her monitor board light up, Aura looked deeply pleased with herself. “Not even those. Especially not those.” Everything around you flickered to life with a reassuring hum and you actually let yourself relax. Just a little. A tiny bit. It was possible, you thought, that you might live through this night after all. 

Just as your eyes drooped shut, you sniffed. “Do I smell smoke?”

_C'est la pute qu'il protège? - "Is this the whore he's protecting?"_

_Bâtard inutile! - "Useless bastard!"_


	8. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are more fires. More death. More bloodshed. And betrayal.  
> 18+ though here primarily for violence and bloodshed.
> 
> All my love and gratitude to misreall, whose genius was the only thing that straightened out the plot so it wasn’t complete crap.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

You were laughing, a wheezing rasp that sounded like maybe a couple of ribs were broken, which was not a surprise. Miles had not been gentle when he was fucking with you, but James’ crazy ancient ex sent you across the clearing with one kick from those pointy-ass boots. God, you hoped he killed her. A lot. Killed her a lot.

It was as you noticed that Aura was staring at you, medical kit in hand, that you realized you’d spoken out loud. “Sorry,” you said, “my attention span’s a bit off. So about that smoke…”

Kneeling by you, she shook her head, “It could be smoke from what’s left of that bonfire, it could be a lot of things. Let me just get you patched up, okay?” 

It felt so nice to just prop yourself against the back of that little bed and watch your friend (maybe?) attach a neat line of butterfly strips against that gash on your abdomen. She explained their rescue in a low, calm voice as she continued to treat your wounds. 

“James came back when he felt your bond thingie go off like a siren,” she caught your puzzled expression and shrugged. “Did you feel anything? Like a tingle? I get that sometimes with Steve.”

You remembered that determined little… something poking at your consciousness when those fanged assholes had you by the neck. “Maybe?” 

Her smile alarmed you. “Good, you’re bonding.”

“Yeah, no,” you snorted, “that’s absolutely not that.” 

Nonetheless, she explained how James tracked you down like a psychic bloodhound and how he’d brought “friends,” others who hated or feared Laurent and his sire and thought they were a danger to their people as a whole. How Steve threw a phosphorous flare into the bonfire that made it explode. How she got you out during the melee. “I saw James stake that dick who was torturing you,” Aura said with deep satisfaction, “with a giant tree branch! I’ll bet that hurt like hell.”

“Good,” you croaked. You felt a thousand times better from the surge of spite, it warmed your heart like a holiday movie would, or fresh-baked cookies.

As if Karma decided to punish you for your moment of mean-spiritedness, Aura looked up at the monitor for the surveillance cameras and her eyes bulged almost comically. “Oh, shit.”

You wheezed out another little laugh. “We’re on fire, aren’t we?”

It was James who first scented the smoke from the fire, spiraling lazily over the trees. “That’s…” he angled his head, “not your cabin, Steve?”

It was always the small things that made them look the most inhuman, like the unnatural speed with which his friend’s head shot up, eyes instantly black. “No. That’s Aura’s!”

_Amazing,_ James thought, _just how quickly our kind could move when properly motivated_. The ground was blurring beneath his feet and Steve’s and their allies remaining from the battle against Laurent’s repellant children followed more slowly, many still recovering from injuries. The black smoke was boiling from the clearing where Aura’s cabin was located, and when Steve saw his truck parked carelessly sideways in front of it, he let out a roar that should have flattened the trees around the inferno. James circled from the other direction, searching for a way in. 

You were leaning against the steel wall of the safe room, watching the monitor as the flames raced through the house until all the interior cameras shorted out. “You’re sure this place is fireproof?” you asked for the third time.

“You’ve asked me four times now, and yes, it has a separate air ventilation system and these walls are fireproof and insulated. Half the forest could go up in flames and we’d be okay,” answered Aura, pacing back and forth. “Man, Steve must be losing his shit right now.” 

You wondered if James was, too. You wondered if that insistent tugging you’d felt came from him. You hoped so, because it was still there, like a small, insistent toddler’s finger, tapping out a morse code demand for more candy on his mother’s knee. Faint, but unrelenting and when it seemed to slow, you held your breath until it started up again.

Aura managed to switch the monitors to the surveillance system her bloodsucker boyfriend had put up when she first moved in. The view from the massive pines surrounding the cabin showed how little was left of it. “What is it with these assholes and fire?” she spat. “I’d just moved all my shit up from Seattle! I’m glad all my important stuff is at Steve’s place.”

You rubbed your forehead, trying to make your battered brain focus. “Who set this one? All the scumbags should have been over hanging out with that French psycho.”

“I dunno,” she admitted, “they must have followed us from there?”

You were woozy from the small dose of pain meds you'd dared take and generally feeling half-insane from this completely shitty evening. “Yeah, flying over us? Some big-ass, scuzzy bat?”

Even Aura started giggling, “At this point? I could almost believe it- hey, there’s activity and- oh, _shit…”_

It felt like something rotted, wriggling with larvae and dripping disease had latched onto your brain stem. You felt profoundly soiled and moaning, scrubbing at the base of your neck, you leaned forward.

“Ah, goddamnit! Who's _this_ fucking guy?” Aura groaned.

“I think-” you stopped, gagging and heaving. “I think it’s James’ sire.”

“My child.”

The voice was exquisite. Rich and deep, sonorous and smooth, rubbing along James’ nerve endings like silk. But it left a jagged finish, like broken glass buried under the caress. It had been almost two centuries since he’d been forced to hear it, but his sire’s voice nearly brought him to his knees. With none of his usual grace, he turned to look at the thing that had made him a beast. 

“Volkov.” The word was a razor blade in his throat, but James gritted it out.

The monster was beautifully dressed, much like himself, in an expensive, bespoke suit. Long, long arms spread wide, spidery fingers wiggling a bit in eagerness. “Come, my son. It has been so long.”

Even after the long span of time, James felt the pull of it, the desperate need to reach for the devil that created him, but he planted his feet. “I’ve received all your gifts. A desperate cry for attention, don’t you think? More like a tantruming child than a sire.” He could feel the earth and rocks beneath his Brunello Cucinelli loafers shaking from the gravitational pull of this monster, but he planted his feet and forced himself to meet the other’s gaze.

There was the briefest flash of, what? Surprise? In Volkov’s eyes before he lifted an elegant brow and chuckled. He was massive, towering a head or more above James, tall as he was. Not as broad as his child but monstrously dense, as immobile as the ancient pines around them. “You have been too long from my embrace, my child. You forget yourself.”

And then James smiled, a huge, open grin that looked shockingly young. “You’re wrong. I have just remembered.” He stepped closer, just a step or two but Steve was suddenly behind him, and the remaining vampires showing the three of them. “I remember so many things about you, Volkov,” he continued, “how you kept me starved and feral. You couldn't risk making a creature strong enough to best you, could you?”

Placing those spidery hands in his expensive trousers, the monster chuckled. “My child,” he said fondly. Volkov made a show of looking around, backlit in the dying flames of the cabin. “Where is my dear Gisane? I was so certain your reunion would be a happy one.”

“That bitch is dead.” Steve chose that minute to speak up, much to James’ amusement. “There might be some of her left on the bottom of his shoe-” pointing a casual thumb at his friend, “if you want a souvenir.”

Volkov’s head twisted abruptly to look at the hulking blond, tilted in an oddly birdlike way. “I do not know you,” he said thoughtfully, “but you will know me. Quite soon.” His attention turned to the vampires behind them. “Ah, a family reunion,” he said, “so many of my children.”

“They’re here to entomb you,” James said, and the shadows behind him shifted uneasily. “We’ll be free of you.” He smiled, and in the red light of the flames, it was horrible. “But you will never see another night, Volkov.”

Aura was quite literally climbing on top of you because you’d managed to wedge your way in front of the little monitor. “What the hell are they doing? That’s James’ freaky daddy?” Glancing down, she eyed your distinctly green complexion. “Are you okay?”

“He’s making me…” you swallowed down a heave, “I feel him in my head like an- an oil slick or something, he’s-” She was wiping your face with a cloth she’d wetted from a water bottle. 

“Hang on. James and Steve will hopefully kill him-”

“They can’t,” you managed, shuddering.

Her hand stilled on your sweaty forehead. “What do you mean?”

“Those fanged fucks were talking while they were beating on me. The sire- oh, god-” you gagged for a bit, but there was nothing left to come up, “If Head Daddy Vampire dies, everyone he created dies, too. If James kills him, _he_ turns to ash. I don’t know what they can do to stop him.”

“Shit,” Aura said despondently, still edging your shaking form away from the monitor so she could get a better look. It was just in time for her to watch the vampires who were backing Steve and James be torn to pieces. A dark, malignant swirl of death ripped through them in an unpleasantly graceful arc, and within moments, there was nothing but ash, flaking away to swirl in the wind with the embers from the cabin’s destruction. And in another blink of an eye, Volkov stood before the two younger vampires, enjoying their shock. “My child,” he crooned, “how were you planning to entomb me? With your pitiful army? Most of them were my children. They live and die by my hand. As do you. Perhaps…” he began strolling gracefully through the wreckage of Aura’s cabin. “Perhaps I did not give you the proper discipline as my child. To think that you could defy me?” 

Volkov’s laugh was horrible. It seared through your ganglia and made you lurch against the metal counter and opening up the worst of your gashes again. You barely noticed, just wanting that psycho fuck to STOP. LAUGHING. It hurt so much more than anything done to you earlier that night. Wiping at your watering eyes, you tried to stop gagging. Whatever James’ psycho daddy was doing to affect you seemed to be impacting him, too. He wavered slightly, eyes turning a baleful gold.

“Ah, you are displeased that I’m toying with your pet?” Volkov crooned, “You are bonded with this flesh? Pathetic. Perhaps I shall turn her. An eternity of suffering, hmmm? I’d planned on leaving her like the others,” he mused, “tearing her apart, giving her enough blood to restore her and beginning again. But for her? She will never rest.”

They attacked him as if they’d done it a thousand times before, and for all you knew, Steve and James had. Leaping in and out of range, tearing and rending at Volkov with a ferocity that should have decimated him. But the older vampire was strong, terrifyingly strong and his negligent gestures began drawing blood from the other two. But you knew the problem. “They can’t kill him, and he knows it,” you groaned, trying to keep the bleeding from your newly reopened wound from getting worse. It soaked your shirt, spread through the bedding, and pooled on the floor. “They’re trying to disable him. But it’s making it next to impossible to bring him down.”

“Oh, shit!” yowled Aura, “Steve- just-” Her beloved bloodsucker had just been thrown into a tree so viciously that the 150-year-old pine toppled with a crash that shook their steel bunker. 

  
  


James gritted his teeth in fury, watching his sire stroll toward the battered form of his closest friend. Wielding a branch like a scimitar, he flew at Volkov, who turned just in time to catch the shard of wood in his leg, not his chest. The two exchanged blows so savage that more massives pines trembled and shook. Black blood flew in all directions and then the Russian gripped James’ arm and nearly tore it from the socket as he sent him headfirst into a boulder. 

“NO!” The power of Steve’s voice stopped even Volkov, who whirled on him, hissing and claws flexing eagerly. But Steve was motionless, looking between him and the unconscious form of James.

“Yes, you see the problem, do you not?” Volkov’s voice was like bile, poisonous. “You are perhaps strong enough to finish me, stranger. But you will send my child to hell with me.” He watched gleefully as the giant blond stepped toward him, then halted, looking again at his fallen friend. 

“Just- please don’t hurt Steve.” A small voice from the collapsed corner of the cabin, the smoking timbers showing the glint of the steel-lined safe room. Aura was slowly making her way closer, shaking violently. “Don’t hurt him.”

Steve’s voice dropped to a growl, barely human. “Aura. Get back inside. Do not come out again.”

She glanced at him, then back at the monstrous form that sired her agent. “Look, just- the girl, James’ girl? She’s got powers. He called her a seer? You can have her, I’ll give you the codes to the bunker and she’s yours. Just, leave. Leave Steve and me alone and you can have her. You can’t get in without it, but I’ll bet you already know that, huh? There’s some things even a vampire can’t tear apart.”

“AURA!” Steve bellowed, shock turning his blue eyes silver. “Stop! Stop talking! We’re not giving him _anything._ Get back inside!”

Volkov threw back his head, his noxious laughter wilting the grass he stood on. “How delightful. I was not aware of your willingness to surrender her worthless flesh. But your loyalty to your master is to be admired.” He took a casual step or two closer to the safe room, away from James. “This is entertaining, to be sure. Your master will hate you for betraying my child’s thrall. James will hate his friend for giving her to me.” He lifted his head and scented deeply, eyes closed in pleasure. “I smell her. Such a delicacy. Another pleasure I will savor.”

Trembling from head to foot, Aura still pushed, “You promise? You promise to leave us alone?”

Lashing out with one arm, Volkov threw Steve across the clearing as the blond charged him. He landed against another tree with a groan, sliding down the trunk. “Aura,” he managed, “don’t.”

Aura had backed up nearly to the door of the bunker, there was a puddle of blood, shining luridly in the reflected firelight. “She’s bleeding pretty badly, you better decide what you’re doing with her.”

Volkov’s grin stretched across his face, widening it horribly and displaying a mouthful of teeth as jagged and cruel as a wolf’s. “Give me the code. You have my word.” He even bowed slightly, putting his hand to his chest in a courtly way.

Steve was trying to drag himself to his feet as his Aura recited the numbers. This couldn’t be real. She would never give up her friend. She couldn’t- His leg collapsed under him, sending him back into the ashes and dirt so he began to crawl to her. _James will never forgive me,_ he thought. _Never._

The steel door swung smoothly open, a slime trail of blood from where the girl had clearly tried to drag herself away, was pitifully clear in the fluorescent lighting. Just a step inside, and Volkov turned swiftly. “Where is she! You treacherous little cunt! I’ll-”

He never got a chance to say what he’d do, because propped on the opposite side of the door was his defeat in the form of a bleeding girl with just enough strength to fire a Desert Eagle, its vicious ammunition tearing through his chest and driving him backward with shaky, staccato steps as the bullets kept coming. As he hit the far wall, Aura yanked her friend free from the doorway and slammed the thick steel door shut, engaging the electronic locks. 

Thunderous strikes hammered the inside of the bunker, but Steve chuckled weakly as he finally made it to the girls, clinging to each other. “I should spank you for leaving the bunker, Aura. But that was genius, you and your guns," he said lovingly, "But you are still in _so_ much trouble.”

James was finally stirring, rolling over with a groan and instantly calling out. “Where is she?”

You looked over at him, seeing his eyes widen with what might be actual fear when he spotted you. Waving with one hand, you managed, “Hey, honey. How was your day?” You found this hilarious for some reason and you were still giggling as his hand cradled your cheek and the feel of it, the solid comfort, was the last thing you remembered.

_Oh, to think I used to be a morning person._ It was your first thought when your eyes opened. And in only the seconds it took to scan the room you realized what happened.

Steve, James, and Aura were sitting around the kitchen table, each nursing something with an impressively high alcohol content when the screaming started. Leaping up from the table with a curse, James was up the stairs in an instant, opening the door to see you standing in front of the mirror, fingers digging into your cheeks like claws and screaming at your reflection. 

Whirling, you charged at him. “What did you DO to me?” you sobbed, “What the fuck did you do, you bastard!”

He put his arms around you, pinning your flailing arms and buried his face in your hair. “It was the only way to save your life,” he whispered. “You were dying, we couldn’t get you to a hospital in time. I had to. I’m sorry. I would have asked your consent, I would have, but-”

Tearing yourself away from his grip, the colder, analytical part of your now-undead mind noted that it was surprisingly easy to do so. “You think I would rather be _this?_ Fuck you James, fuck you! I would rather be dead than this! To be like you? FUCK!” you screamed again, turning away and pulling at your hair. Looking at your reflection, you choked on your sobs. There were pinkish-red rivulets running down your perfect skin. Your eyes were a sickly crimson. “So the mirror myth is bullshit, huh?”

James’ face appeared behind yours, his normally composed expression was gone, genuine anguish twisting his elegant features. “I had to, I’m sorry. There was no-”

“Fuck you, James! There is always a choice! You know I would never want this! _You_ wanted this, you heartless fuck!” Turning helplessly in a circle, you spotted Aura and Steve, frozen in the doorway. “And you let him do this?” you spat. “Aura, you knew I would never want to be one of these assholes!” She was crying, and it made you feel a tinge of something left from the rapidly disappearing part of you characterized as human.

Turning to the men, Aura said, “Let me stay with her. Just go, it’s all right. Just go.”

James could barely speak, it seemed, managing to say, “She needs to feed, she’ll-” 

When you started screaming and rocking again, Aura pushed them out the door and shut it, hurrying over to kneel beside you. “I’m sorry honey,” she was smoothing your mass of untamed hair, and it was suddenly the only thing that kept your head from exploding into a million pieces so you clutched at her, too. “I’m sorry. It’ll be okay, we’ll just sit here and it’ll be okay.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
